


What is This Thing (That I am Feeling)

by UnintentionallySketchy



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnintentionallySketchy/pseuds/UnintentionallySketchy
Summary: Rachel pines and Quinn gives in, but their secret affair comes at a cost. Somewhat A/U. NYC.
Relationships: Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 79
Kudos: 148





	1. Please, Keep it Down

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this story almost a decade ago. I lost track it of nearly 8 years ago. Then, something brought me back so I decided to come back and finish it. Light trigger warning, mentions of emotional and physical abuse. This does have a happy ending. Reposting a newly edited version from ff.net

“Fuck, Quinn. I’m not sure I can -” Rachel Berry’s head bounced off the sturdy oak cabinet behind her. The pain was barely felt - all she felt was the three fingers she had buried deep inside.

"Shhh," the blonde husked against a delicate ear. Smooth, hot air sending chills down the 5-foot framed singer head to toe.

"Jesus fuck Qui-" and a guttural moan. The normally verbose brown eyed girl didn’t have the words because Quinn was doing that thing with her thumb and _oh, don't ever stop doing that thing with your thumb_. It brushes lightly against a hooded clit, coaxing all logical thought out of her head.

"Shhh," she slowed her movements almost to a stop. Another, more frustrated, moan reverberated against both or their necks. _Fuck, keep going._

"He isn't that heavy of a sleeper." The deep voice whispered again, flicking the shell of the smaller girl’s ear with the tip of her perfect tongue.

Rachel nodded her head because, dear God, she would be as quiet as Quinn wanted if it meant she would pick up her pace. After what felt like an agonizing pause, the blonde slammed into her lover, hard. 

Rachel bit her bottom lip and felt the taste of copper on her tongue but the pain just made her wetter. She was so close and –

"Come on my hand so I can lick you off my fingers." Another whisper and another taste of blood. But those words were all it took and Rachel’s body shook. It shook and then it ceased because any motion at all felt impossible. Her thumb continued to stroke an overly sensitive clit and her fingers continued to move until the diva slumped against the cabinet and rested her forehead on a delicate shoulder.

After what felt like a year and a day trying to regain her breath, Quinn slowly pulled out and pulled her head back to look at her work. Hazel orbs coated in black lust locked with brown as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked. The side of her mouth quirked up as she lightly moaned at the taste on her lips.

Rachel pulled her by the neck to have a taste for herself but when two sweaty foreheads met, she tilted to the side just out of reach. She let out a light chuckle, laced with a forcefulness that should have sent a fear down her lover, not another flood to her core like it did.

Quietly, so quietly Rachel almost didn't hear the sneer in her tone, she bit, "You get so fucking wet when I fuck you, don't you?"

It wasn't a question she had to answer. The proof all over the kitchen counter. The brunette was still dripping. But in the next instant, Quinn was gone. Picking up underwear and shorts off the floor somewhere near the refrigerator where they had been thrown the second her secret had walked in the door. Rachel breathed a sigh and jumped off the counter. They were done.

She handed them to the shorter girl without a word and slipped off to wash her hands while Rachel slid them on in shame. Staring at the back of her short blond hair, the only thought flowing through the diva’s mind was how she always got it to look just a little bit different, but never out of place..

"It's been fun. As always." Her cold tone contradicts her words. It’s always fun. But it’s never kind.

"Next time, I can, you know, for you-" Rachel haphazardly offers despite knowing it’s futile. Quinn won’t accept it next time - just like she didn’t this time. But she nods her head once regardless and takes a sip of water. It’s time for Rachel to leave.

Rachel checks her pockets but reminds herself she doesn’t have any belongings on her. The less evidence she can leave behind, the better.

She lifts her head on the hope for a kiss goodbye but finds herself alone, staring into the dark. 

* * *

"Where are you, bitch?" Rang through the quiet doorway just as she snuck through. _Busted._

"In here, Kurt." Rachel called back through a thin smile as she dropped her keys unceremoniously onto the counter. Already dreading the third degree she was no doubt about to receive. 

"Ah ha!" He yelled when he turned the corner from his bedroom. "Where have you been Miss Berry?" 

Her flamboyant roommate stops directly before her and grabs onto both forearms and kisses each cheek once. A habit she wished he had left behind in France after his study abroad program. He places a steadying hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.

"The library." A lie.

"Oh. Big test coming up, or …" He trails off. A knowing passes across his eyes.

"Yup, Musical Theory test Monday. Big big big." A lie again, this time with a smile.

"Were you there with anybody?" His head tilts to the side.

The brunette shake’s her head. "All by myself. What smells so good in here?" She tries to change the subject and look around the kitchen for something else to focus on. The lies came easier these days, but it didn't mean she didn't still feel a little guilty about it.

"I ordered Chinese. I went by the library earlier to print out my English paper and I didn't see you." He cocks his head to the side, challenging her story.

"I was in a private room in the back." A playful swat taps the tip of his nose. _Keep it light and he will eventually stop._ _Just be your normal self. Throw your long-winded rant his way._ "You know I sing through Musical Theory. I highly doubt my peers would appreciate my breaking out into Barbra's rendition of Don't Rain on My Parade. Even though it is by far the best selection in my vocal repertoire."

He takes a deep breath but leaves it at that. "Okay, well I got some extra Chinese in the fridge. I figured you didn't eat while you were out." He lets go of her and she takes the opportunity to scamper off. She really was quite hungry.

Kurt takes a seat at the center island while she heats up leftovers. The smell takes over the inside of her nostrils and the realization dawns that she hasn’t eaten all day.

"So…." He taps his fingers against the cool granite on the counter top looking for something to break the silence. "Are you going to Quinn's thing?"

She faults for a second with the fork and it’s enough for him to continue.

"Her bridal shower. It's in two weeks" His tapping stops and runs a nervous hand through his freshly dried hair. "I know you aren't captain of the Quinn fan club, but she's going to be my sister-in-law and I just really think … "

Rachel cuts him off with a snarl before he can finish.

"I just don't see the point, Kurt. Where's the soy sauce?"

"Top shelf, right cabinet above the sink. Rachel. You have to let what happened all those years ago go."

"Let it go? Which part? The name calling, the slushie throwing, the boyfriend stealing? I let all that stuff go." _Really, I did. Trust me._ "But that doesn't mean I support all of this.

"Is this because of Finn?" He lets it out in a breath so quiet I would think he was scared of the answer.

"No." And that wasn't a lie.

* * *

_*6 months earlier*_

_It wasn't what she was expecting it to be. She’d been living in New York for just over 3 years now and it wasn't at all the glamorous life she had hoped for._

_Sure, she was out of Lima and that was the goal. Sure, she had been accepted into NYADA with my best friend and was on her way to getting the diploma on the wall accrediting her to live out her dream under the illustrious lights of Broadway._

_She still walked by the marquees and got chills thinking that one day it would be her name, Rachel Berry, in people's playbills. She never lost that dream. But something was missing._

_It was a chilly Friday night in October after an impossibly hard showcase for her Junior seminar when she walked into Clydes. It was the only bar I knew on this side of the city that she knew would be free of any familiar faces. She took my usual perch and flagged down the bartender._

_"The usual, Miss Berry?" she nodded swiftly as he wiped his hands on the towel. He gave her a short nod and turned to pick up a glass from the shelf behind him and she toyed with a loose thread on the end of my coat._

_"Take off your jacket and stay awhile," He laughed his charismatic laugh as he flashed his bright smile her way. She couldn't help but return it, albeit halfhearted._

_"Thanks Frank." She wasn't in the mood for chatting. And she wasn't in the mood for taking off my coat._

_Frank didn't have to be told. And that's one of her favorite things about him. She’d been coming to this spot for 3 years. It was the only place she knew that didn't seem to mind when she was a freshman and her ID said she was a 26 year old named Lily from Queens. They also never batted an eye when she suddenly grew younger and her name changed a few months ago._

_She only came here on the days she needed a pick-me-up that came in the form of 80 proof and on the rocks. It was only on days when she couldn't help but think of the what-ifs._

_People came in and out all the time. The bell above the door signaled their entrance to seclusion and their return to reality. It wasn't a place to socialize and it wasn't a place to ask questions. It was a place to think inside your own head._

_That's why she never noticed her walk through the door. She never noticed her sit down on the stool beside her and she never heard her voice order a drink._

_Who knows how long she had been sitting there before Rachel picked her head up to throw a twenty down on the table and retreat back to my apartment on 83rd street. But the raise of her eyebrow and a nearly empty glass said she had been waiting for the brunette to notice for quite some time._

_Rachel dropped her wallet back into her purse and faced her past._


	2. Lost in Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look inward, and a look forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are coming over from ff, you'll notice that these chapters are the same content but completely different words. I guess after 8 years, I decided to edit myself a bit.

"Miss Berry!" Rachel’s ears heard the noise, but her mind didn’t register. She was busy. Busy daydreaming of lead colored bubbled and flowers and airplanes. Airplanes that would fly her far, far away from the rabbit hole she found herself stumbled down.

Cold, manufactured air swirled around her. She shivered and wrapped her oversized hoodie around her tighter. She didn’t even bother to put on presentable clothes these days. 

"Miss Berry!" the meaningless words came again but her mind continued to spin.

She didn’t know how she would qualify herself these days. Depressed, perhaps? She didn’t really care. She felt much of nothing.

"Miss Berry! You will listen in this class while I am teaching." 

It would normally bother her to be verbally reprimanded in front of her peers - despite it seeming to happen more and more as of late. But maybe that’s all because this person, this dull emotionless blob that she slowly had transformed into over the last 3 years,  _ was _ her new normal. 

She couldn’t explain how she ended up here. Just overtime New York beat and battered her into submission. This school, NYADA, whipped her into line. She wasn’t a star anymore. She wasn’t the one people around looked at to emulate. She was another face in a crowd. She was, dare she say, average. 

She spent time searching for anything, anybody, who could make her feel like she was still that gold star. That she was still  _ something _ . She always felt to come up short.

Rachel felt a buzz at her hip and waited until her professor turned back to the overhead projector and continued to drone on before she turned the phone over in her lap.

**_Lucy Ray: New Text Message_ **

She rolled her eyes at the predictability. Every Thursday was the same. She had a late lecture, she got a text, she snuck into a dark loft, and got fucked, she went home.

**_L: I have until 10. Don't bother wearing underwear._ **

She was tiring of the mundane. Even this began to make her feel a bit... less.

The first night Quinn ever brought her home she felt a spark she hadn’t felt since her first showcase freshman year. Albeit, a different surge of excitement - it got her to the same place.

But now, more often than not, she felt used.

_ R: Kurt's making dinner. Sorry. _

Well, more she felt she was being used. 

**_L: Blow him off._ **

Quinn never, ever, let Rachel touch her. Rachel tried hard not to focus on the why’s of that. But it was really starting to piss her off.

_ R: Can't. He's already getting too suspicious. _

And the thing she was definitely not trying to but also sort of starting to focus on began to wrap it’s tail around her subconscious every time they were together. 

Was this some sort of leftover control thing that Quinn held since highschool? It wasn’t enough just to dominate her psyche in grade school but now she had to do it in the real world too? Was Rachel just always going to cave in to whatever Quinn wanted out of her?

**_L: Whatever._ **

The answer to all of those… probably.

* * *

Rachel sat alone, in the dark. The small cubes of ice in her tumbler clinking off the walls of the 2-bedroom apartment. Her and Kurt had moved out of their Bushwick loft in between their sophomore and junior semesters. No, this one wasn’t quite as boho chic but what it lacked in character it made up for in practicality.

She was really getting sick of being quiet with her trysts.

A key turned in the lock and Rachel prepared herself to playing the part of - well, Rachel. A daunting role, so it seemed, these days. 

"Honey! I'm home!" Kurt strode through calling into the dark and flipping on the lights as he threw his keys on the narrow entryway table.

"Holy shit, Rachel! What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark?" he startled at her silent and steady fixture. 

Her fair skinned friend slowly walks towards her as if she will spook at a sudden movement. Before slowly sinking down beside her and wedging himself between cushion and body. Swatting at her thigh to get her to scoot over. 

"I'm worried about you." He says bluntly, as he takes a clammy hand in his.

Rachel looks up at him and scoffs, "About?"

"Look at you, Rachel. I come home to find you sitting in the dark nursing a gin?"

"Vodka." 

Rachel hates that he cares. It seems odd, even to her, that this is the first thing she feels seeing as she was always known to pull out just about every single stop for other people’s attention for practically her entire life.

"I just don't know what's going on inside that crazy little head of yours anymore, Rachel. You drink like a fish, you disappear at all hours of the day and night." he waves at her as if to say  _ I mean just look at you. _

She hates that she hates that he cares. She so badly wants to want him to put in all the attention to detail he does. She so badly wants to let somebody in to where she is. But if she does, if she lets him see just a little, how much more will he ask for?

"I know you aren't at the library every time. Not even you study that much." And she bristles at his statement. She hates that he notices this. It’s getting dangerously close to time to shut him out.

Most people think that Rachel Berry  _ is _ Broadway. She’s loud and she’s boisterous and she’s verbose and she’s bright. And she is. The  _ character _ Rachel Berry is, quite exclusively, those things.

But at some point, Rachel Berry the character and Rachel Berry the person split. At some point when slushies were repeatedly dumped on her head and she was told she looked like a man and she was harassed for believing in herself - she just sort of stopped. Not completely, she still got herself to New York and she still believed she could  _ be _ Rachel Berry, the complete Rachel Berry, but every day it was just a little less.

Hence, the vodka and the dark and the self deprecating sex she was having with the one person who could always get to her core.

"I'm fine." She wants to believe it herself. She really, truly does. "I promise. Just stressed with school and everything. You will be the first to know if there is anything major going on in my life." It was another lie. But it was for everyone's own good.

* * *

_ Rachel had absolutely no idea what to say to Quinn. _

_ They hadn’t seen each other in a few years and any and all attempts to contact the blonde had gone completely unanswered. She didn’t try much after that. _

_ “This is going to sound super cliched but… do you come here often?” Rachel cringed the second it left her lips. And then a thought occurred. Now, lower, “Wait. Did you follow me here?” _

_ “Rachel I haven’t thought of you in 3 years, why would I follow you?” The blonde snapped back at her and the comment should have hurt. _

_ But that silky, snarky rasp just made her  _ feel. _ And she hadn’t felt in so long. _

_ Quinn knocked back the rest of her drink and glanced over at the brunette out of the corner of her eye while a smirk pulled at her mouth. Rachel let her shoulders relax. _

_ They sat like that for a while. Quinn looking off into nowhere and Rachel looking off into the maze of freckles that littered her delicate skin. She got lost, lost in thoughts of what could have been in a tentative friendship that never got itself off the ground. They were sort of friends once, but once was long ago.  _

_ Now, all she knew of the honey soaked blonde in front of her was that she had attended Columbia and she was engaged to Finn Hudson. The glowing diamond on her third finger of her left hand was an obnoxious reminder of that. An obnoxious reminder of what she could have had. Rachel just was never quite sure if what she could have had was Finn, or Quinn. _

_ Rachel’s eyes traced along her jaw and her lips. The went down her neck and watched the blood faintly pump through the veins there. Her alabaster skin was untouched by blemishes or age. But she looked… duller… than what Rachel had remembered. Long gone was the glow from when she carried Beth. Her eyes were tired. Her teeth were clenched. And Rachel battled the urge to soothe the tight tendon in her jaw.  _

_ She traced the lines down to her collarbone. She could have sworn she saw faded ink peeking out from the tight black t-shirt that sat on a still fit frame. Her ripped black jeans hugged her narrow hips. Her black leather boots came to her knee. This couldn’t be the body of somebody with anything but the world at their fingertips. _

_ As brown eyes finished their appraisal, they returned to their home base and she noted the hand that made its way so softly to her own jean-clad knee.  _

" _ Berry." Finally, her raspy voice. Lips still smirking. Eyes still staring in front of her. _

_ That was likely the last word Rachel had heard out of Quinn’s mouth before they parted in Lima. “ _ Take care, Berry. _ ” or “ _ Good luck, Berry _.” It seemed like a poetic bookend to a 3 year separation.  _

" _ Want to get out of here?" It wasn’t what Rachel was expecting to hear. _

" _ Yeah." And it wasn’t what she was expecting to say. _


	3. Just This Once

She’s been wildly out of sync lately. Everything Rachel does seems to be one second too early or two seconds too late. Things aren’t connecting like the should. Her hands are out of sync with her legs which are out of sync with her mind which is our of sync with her heart. Things simply fell through the cracks.

Like the glass that had just fell through her fingers and shattered on the ground at her feet.

“Rachel! What on earth was that noi-” Kurt raced around the corner to find Rachel standing stock still, in the middle of a barefoot deathtrap. “Don’t move, I’ll get the broom.”

And then there was Kurt. 

Everything was out of sync with their friendship. It began and ended with the lies - well really just one big fat solid shit lie. He couldn’t know about her relationship, or whatever, with Quinn. He wouldn’t understand and he would tell her to stop. 

And that just was not going to happen.

She listened to him and didn’t move. She didn’t know if she could, and the overwhelming urge to just let everything inside her fall to the ground too was overpowering. 

"Walking on, walking on, broken glass." He sang which earned a half-hearted chuckle from the singer.

"Thanks." It was sincere. She really did appreciate everything he was for her, even if she wasn’t letting him be her everything right now.

She finally made her way to the couch and sat down with a new glass of wine in hand. Kurt sat down beside her and put on an episode of Project Runway on Netflix and the two of them lost themselves in taffeta and lace.

Rachel doesn’t know when she dozed, just that at some point in time, she was being shook awake by the boy next to her. Her eyes blinked open slowly and she took in her surroundings. It was dark and it was quiet, so it must have been late. 

"Your phone won't stop going off." He said carefully and handed her the buzzing object. 

A flash of panic ran through her. Only one person ever contacted her this late.

"Who's Lucy Ray?" His head cocked to the side with a look of general curiosity.  _ Please no, not today. _

**_New Text Message: Lucy Ray (4)_ **

"It's nobody." She waved off, feigning indifference.

"Nobody seems to be adamant." He half chuckled, half inquired. She wanted him to let it go.

The phone buzzed again. Text number 5. 

**_L: Finn's out._ **

**_L: He'll be with his friends until at least 1._ **

**_L: Come over. Now._ **

**_L: want to hear you scream my name._ **

**_L: Rachel, for fuck sake._ **

“Just a study buddy, Kurt.” she mumbled back to him as she read over the texts.

_ R: Give me 15. _

Rachel slipped the phone back into her pocket and looked up at still curious eyes - waiting for her to elaborate.

"Really, it's nobody." She turned and walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

* * *

It took less than 5 minutes for Quinn to have Rachel panting over the back of the couch. 

"You said he would be gone for a couple of hours.” She swatted at the bangs falling into her eyes. “Shit. We can, fuck, we can slow down." But the words were all but forgotten as Quinn ran a flat tongue up her center and slapped her ass, hard.

Quinn didn’t respond but Rachel would swear on her grave that she could feel the smirk from the woman behind her. She instantly soaked herself.  _ This would be a long night. _

It was close to 1am when Quinn went to get her a bottle of water out of the fridge. Rachel lay on the corner of the guest bed, completely sated and unable to feel her legs. She didn’t know what it was, but it always seemed like Quinn couldn’t be satisfied - she couldn’t get deep enough or couldn’t go fast enough. She never let Rachel stop after one orgasm to catch her breath but would go until she was on the verge of passing out.

It was sadistic, almost. Or, it would be sadistic if Rachel was entirely enamoured with the blonde above, below, besides, or behind her at any given moment. 

The truth was Rachel would let Quinn do whatever, whenever, however she pleased. That first night they were together, the very first moment lips touched her skin, it was like the entire 9 years before suddenly made perfect sense. 

She never wanted the boys Quinn had, she wanted Quinn. She wanted to be what Quinn wanted. She wanted to be what Quinn desired. 

Now, well the sweat on her forehead and the cum on her thighs told her she was.

“Ready to go again?” She heard a husky voice call from the doorframe and looked up into the eyes of a dream. 

Quinn, in all her insanely gorgeous glory. A body that looked nothing shy of somebody with a strict yoga routine only clung to by a set of lacy black lingerie that popped off her pale skin. 

So what if this was purely sexual and Quinn was just using her to satisfy some twisted teenage fantasy of ‘banging the nerd.’ So what if Quinn barely used words and hardly ever let Rachel kiss her. So what if this was all she ever got from the girl who, unbeknownst to her, stole her heart on a playground sometime around the age of 12 and never looked back. So what? She could let herself have this. 15 year old Rachel  _ deserved _ this.

Even if it was slowly tearing her apart.

She nodded and held her hand out for the water bottle but Quinn was quick to straddle her waist and pin that arm above her head. With her free hand she coaxed Rachel’s mouth open and brought the open bottle to her lips. The brunette gulped up what she was given before a hot mouth descended on her pulse point and the bottle fell to the ground.

* * *

_ They didn’t speak as they left the bar. Quinn turned left outside the doors into the cool night and Rachel followed without a word. _

_ She didn’t say a word as the blonde hailed a cab with a sharp whistle. And she didn’t say a word when he gave her an address of an apartment that most definitely was not nearby. _

_ The cab ride was a mirror of the bar. Quinn sat and stared out the window at the passing scenery and Rachel sat and stared at Quinn.  _

_ It should be creepy. She should feel like she’s intruding on some sort of intimate headspace, but it doesn’t. She shouldn’t just  _ stare _ like that, but she does. Quinn didn’t seem to mind if the occasional way her eye twinkled or the hint of the corner of her mouth rising was any indication.  _

_ Rachel’s hand slowly inched its way across the dirty cloth seat to the jeaned leg. It was a motion she couldn’t stop or control - her hand had a mind of its own and she was willing to let it take charge. The desire coursed through her, she was at its mercy. _

_ As soon as she reached her target, Quinn’s hand came down and stopped hers but made no motion to acknowledge her. Once she was sure Rachel wasn’t going to push any further, she lifted her palm and drew faint lines up a tan forearm with her index finger. It was enough to send chills straight down Rachel’s back. _

_ The cab came to a sudden halt and Quinn was gone. Leaving Rachel to scurry out and catch up - nearly forgetting her purse in the backseat. _

_ Their silent adventure continued down the sidewalk, up the stairs, through the lobby, and onto the elevator before Rachel even realized they were moving. She watched as a pale hand pushed the number 5 and counted down. _

_ 5… _

_ It wasn’t too late to turn around.  _

_ 4…  _

_ This was Quinn Fabray. There has to be a trick here. _

_ 3… _

_ Maybe the whole Glee gang is just getting ready to punk her. _

_ 2…  _

_ She’s just inviting Rachel up for coffee. A normal friend thing to do. _

_ 1… _

_ “Are you coming?” _

_ Boy, did she hope so. _

  
  


_ As soon as they walk into the empty apartment, Quinn flips a small lamp on and Rachel takes stock of her surroundings. Her eyes travel over neatly folded blankets on the arm of the couch and a modest collection of books on a shelf. She walks over to them - books always made her feel close to Quinn. _

_ Her eyes ghost over the titles she expects to find there; Ulysses, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Alice in Wonderland. She finds pictures of Santana and Brittany and - _

" _ Where's Finn?" The caution in the question is unmistakable. Rachel had quite honestly completely forgotten about him up until this very moment. Her brain was intoxicated by Quinn. _

" _ Asleep." The taller girl responds in a whisper and brings her fingers to her lips as she stalks over to Rachel’s slightly nervous frame. _

" _ He's in the bedroom passed out. It's about that time of night." Rachel wants to ask a follow up question, but her mind can’t decide on which one. Was this really just some sort of trick? Panic begins to boil over and Rachel begins to quickly look around. _

_ Quinn must notice the quick change in demeanor because she lowers her hand from her face and runs her fingers up Rachel’s arm to her collarbone to her neck. _

_ “Listen, you don’t have to stay. This is the situation as it is. You’re here, I’m here.” She looks behind her towards the back. “He’s back there and he’s definitely not coming out.” _

_ Rachel sways, a little drunken on alcohol and I little drunken on Quinn, and the blonde steadies her as Quinn’s hand moves to the back of her neck. _

_ “But I’m going to head in there,” her head snaps to the right towards a door Rachel can only assume is a guest room, “and if you can be quiet you should join me.” _

_ Rachel was now very aware of what this was. This was a booty call, a hookup, a quickie - a Rachel Berry dream come true. She wasn’t about to give it up so she nodded wordlessly, enthusiastically.  _

_ Quinn smiled a devious grin and leaned in. She leaned in so close Rachel could taste her chapstick and let out a quiet moan. And then she was gone. _

_ No, Rachel Berry was not about to give up this chance. _


	4. Chapter 5: Lying is Lovin

One of Rachel's favorite things about New York City was that it was never quiet.

Most people hated the fact that they could hear sirens and cars honking at all hours of the night, but Rachel took comfort in the white noise from below - oftentimes it drowned out the thoughts racing through her head.

She liked to lose herself in overly loud conversations the neighbors had, pretending she was there to mediate and diffuse the situation. It gave her a feeling of control. Control she knew was slipping away from her lately.

Getting lost in another world was exactly what she was doing tonight. She was lying on Quinn's guest bed losing herself in her own permissive fantasies - her mind locked onto the swirling shadows and her thoughts slipped into the  _ what ifs _ .

In the back of her mind, Rachel knew she should already be dressed and gone by now. She never stayed until Quinn got out of the shower. She was listening to the stream of the shower while the blonde washed away the evidence of what they had spent the last two hours doing. And Rachel was trying not to think it had anything to do with  _ her _ .

It wasn't that she never wanted to stay, it was just part of their unspoken ritual. Quinn would get her off one, two, six times - depending on where Finn was before the blonde would get in the shower and Rachel would dress quietly and leave. She never asked to stay and Quinn never offered. 

After that first indulgent night, Finn was never around during their trysts. What Rachel believed was going to be a one-time cave into teenage desires turned into once a week which turned into practically every night Finn worked the graveyard shift. 

They didn’t talk much, they didn’t kiss much, and they absolutely never cuddled. Quinn always seemed to keep a barrier between them - both literally and figuratively. She was apt to rip Rachel’s panties off and go down on her for hours but when Rachel went to return the favor she was often flipped on her back and fucked into submission.

Every now and then, Quinn would ride her leg until she screamed out in pleasure. Once or twice, The blonde would fuck herself above Rachel, illiciting moans of pleasure from the brunette without even touching her. And, rarely, when Rachel was really lucky, the blonde would slide Rachel’s palm down a pale stomach and dip a tanned hand into her panties. Rachel couldn’t see her, but she could feel her, she could smell her. And she so badly wanted to taste her.

Quinn always turned out the lights and shut the blinds to the point of darkness that Rachel felt ashamed of herself. Just once she wanted to bathe Quinn in the moonlight, just once she wanted to trace the shadows off her smooth skin.

Rachel assumed Quinn was embarrassed of the scars left over from an accident that was Rachel’s fault to begin with. Those scars that Rachel often wished to trace with her hand. Those scars that Rachel didn’t have the right to see.

So she allowed her that discretion. 

Finn wasn't home tonight. He was… somewhere that Rachel didn’t bother to ask. She kept Finn out of their adulterous hideaway. He wasn’t her business, either.

Quinn made sure of that their senior year of high school, after Rachel had broken off a premature engagement to the quarterback. It was only a few months before Quinn and he were dating, he and Quinn were moving to New York, he and Quinn were engaged.

Quinn took her dream - but it wasn’t her dream anymore. Without knowing it, Quinn really set her free.

And now here she was, in Quinn’s bed, sated from the line of orgasms given to her by her former-enemy turned friend turned rival turned nothing. Finn off on a graveyard shift as a rookie for the NYPD. What a way life turns.

Rachel heard the shower turn off and groaned. She knew she should have gotten out of bed five minutes before too late had already passed, which was ten minutes ago. She pulled the sheet over her for modesty and looked around the room for her discarded clothing.

She swung her legs off the bed and moved to get up when she heard the door to the bathroom creak open slowly.

"Oh, I, uh, I didn't realize you were still here." The blonde faltered, her tone soft. She pulled her towel tighter around her torso.

Rachel grabbed for the sheet that had pooled around her waist. Apparently now was the time for modesty despite having the girl in front of her between her legs for hours… Rachel digging fingers into blonde hair pulling her closer… the blonde scratching the back of tan thighs as Rachel flooded her mouth… 

Rachel felt herself get wet. She shook her head to reset herself.

“Sorry, yeah… I started to doze. I’ll just get out of your hair.” The singer looked around for her clothes. A shirt, a bra, anything.

Quinn took a step forward and reached a hand out into nothing. “No, no. That’s okay.” She looked around. “You can, like, take a shower or something.” 

Hazel eyes looked up to see chocolate ones, and they must have seen the uncertainty swimming on the surface. "I mean, if you want.”

Rachel rarely saw this Quinn. This shy Quinn. The Quinn that wasn’t pulling her hair and trapping her in place to exert her power and dominance.  _ This _ Quinn made Rachel yearn for more.

But there was no more for her to take than what she had already. She knew that. The rest was all just… fantasy.

The more the thought of what she wanted versus what she can have creeped into her mind, the more the  _ what ifs _ suffocated her. She needed air.

"Oh. No, that's okay. I was…" the brunette trailed off, now more frantically searching for her bra.  _ I swore I had a bra. It was red _ . "I really should go."  _ Okay, pants first. I know those are here. Oh! There they are.  _ "I didn't mean to –" her words were cut off as she toppled onto the floor, her foot caught in the pocket of her jeans.

_ Smooth. Now she's laughing at you. _

As soon as she regained her footing she grabbed her shirt from the bedpost and threw it over her head. The bra be damned.

"Rachel…" the soft raspy voice, uncharacteristic from the deep husky moan of  _ Rachel  _ she had become used to, almost broke her forward progress.

"I have to go. Taxis at this time of night are atrocious to hail with all the people returning from various areas across the city and the subway becomes just unrideable after 2am. I try to avoid that level of public transportation as much as possible. Do you know how many homeless people skulk in the dark corners of –" the dive rambled as she slipped on her heels and, well dammit, these straps worked just fine earlier.

"Rachel." This time it was a little louder. A little harder. A little more Quinn.

"The conditions of public transportation hubs are absolutely deplorable as well. I feel as if I might contract a flesh-eating virus just by simply looking at the handrails on the subway. One in every five –"

"Rachel!" There she was.  _ Her _ Quinn she knew and - well the Quinn she was used to.

"Okay, I'll go now." And with that Rachel stood sturdy on her own two feet and began making her way to the front door.

Quinn followed her quietly to the door. She wasn’t used to this sort of… attention.

"Finn's out tomorrow night." Quinn offered point blank and leaned into her space.

The brunette offered a sturdy nod in response as she put a flat hand to Quinn’s chest and counted the rhythm beneath her fingers to steady her own beating heart.

"Maybe we can do this again tomorrow?" a smirk lifted across pink lips.

"Yeah, maybe." She responded with the most indifferent tone she could muster. She couldn’t falter into a false sense of security - into a place where she let Quinn know how much she  _ did _ enjoy these stolen moments. Not just in pleasure, but in company.

She reached for the door before a firm hand gripped her wrist and spun her around, trapping her between the door and a very toned body. She squealed at the sensation of the sharp knob pressing into her back.

The taller girl bent down and took the diva's earlobe between her teeth before husking out –

"I'm going to make sure it's more than a maybe." And then she was gone.

Rachel wasn't sure whether or not that was a challenge. But she knew she was about to find out.

* * *

Rachel slumped down onto the squeaky leather of the yellow town car as soon as she left Quinn's apartment. It was nearly 3 in the morning and she had been right.; empty cabs had been hard to come by at this time on a Friday night. Well, technically Saturday morning.

She was trying to reconcile the feelings that overwhelmed her as she was leaving.

Quinn and Rachel didn't do feelings. They had been sleeping together, no,  _ fucking _ , for 6 months and she knew where the line was. She knew what her limits were. Moreover, she knew what  _ Quinn’s _ limits were. She came to accept those very quickly.

Quinn never told Rachel about her day or how she was feeling and, hell, she didn't even mention her fiancé's name unless she was telling Rachel how long it would be until he walked in the room. In turn, Rachel never bothered to tell the blonde about school, her auditions, her family, or anything about her life. She knew that wasn't what Quinn wanted to hear about.

Their relationship was strictly physical. Rachel would be lying if she hadn't thought about breaking it off more than once or twice. She knew what they were doing was wrong but,  _ damn _ , did it feel right.

Sure, she had small pangs of guilt when she thought about the guy who she loved at one point coming home to the woman who was just screaming  _ her _ name. Sure, she felt bad about it just so happening to be her first love. Sure, she felt bad that she had to face his own brother at home.

She got nauseous every time her flamboyant roommate would talk about the nice things Finn did for his future wife. Rachel, albeit unwillingly, heard about all the meals Finn cooked for the blonde, the fact that he would buy her flowers 'just because' and, wow, if she had to hear the story about how he proposed one more time, she was pretty sure she was going to puke.

It wasn't jealousy.  _ Absolutely not. _

It wasn’t jealously that she had Finn first, it wasn’t jealousy that she wanted Quinn, on even the most basic and physical level, now. She couldn’t even be sure what her feelings for the former cheerleader were exactly.

Sometimes she felt like it was just this insatiable need to please the girl who tormented her for years.

Sometimes she felt like it was the overwhelming urge to just  _ know _ Quinn… in whatever way she was allowed.

She was never offered information  _ about _ Quinn  _ by _ Quinn. Everything she had in her rolodex of Quinn she got through her own astute observations over the years. 

Like the fact that she enjoyed wearing yellow on Saturdays and how her voice always cracked when she sang a song that reminded her of Beth. She knew she would stand up for her best friends, even if she never wanted anybody to know. She knew her favorite slushy flavor was blue raspberry, and she single handedly called off the jocks from dumping any on Rachel's head after Junior year.

She knew Quinn would get this sad look in her eye back when the diva herself dated Finn. She could only assume it was because she had still been in love with him.

She could only assume that she was madly in love with him now. They were getting married, after all.

But all those things that Rachel used to know about the girl where no longer relevant. She wasn't the same girl she had been back then.  _ Well, mostly. _ Quinn hadn't suddenly grown soft in her older age. Quite the opposite. Those hazel eyes had grown colder and even more distant. The moment's where Rachel saw them soften and smile had dwindled down from rarely to almost never.

All she knows about Quinn now is that she prefers to taken Rachel from behind and she always smells like lavender.

She never bothered to ask why Quinn was cheating on Finn with her. Not because she didn’t care to know - she just didn’t want Quinn to think about it.

As the cab finally pulled up in front of her building she realized she had two options.

Quit sleeping with Quinn Fabray. Or quit thinking about  _ why _ she's sleeping with Quinn Fabray.

* * *

Rachel had gotten pretty good at walking through her apartment in the dark without making noise. She knew where all the creaks in the floor were and she was careful to avoid them. The less attention she drew to herself when she walked in, the better.

She should have thought about that before she left her phone sound on loud.

Four chirps and one  _ Jesus Christ later... _

"What the hell time is it?" He forced out through a yawn as he sleepily walked out of his bedroom and turned on the kitchen light. 

"It's time for you to get back to bed Mister Sleepyhead. Come on. I'll bring you a warm cup of tea." She forced on the biggest grin she could muster and perkiest voice as she threw her purse, phone and keys onto the table. She was far too tired to get in any sort of lying game with him.

"Bullshit, where have you been?" He said suddenly more awake when he saw the microwave clock mock him with the numbers 3:27 on them.

"I was on the phone." Well, she had been at one point in the night.

"Again. Bullshit. With who? It's 3:30 in the fucking morning Rachel."  _ Oh. Cranky Kurt woke up for this conversation. _

"My dads." Her smile started to fade realising that he and this conversation weren’t going to be as easy to put to bed as she hoped.

"Bullshit." 

"Quit saying that."

"Then stop feeding me bullshit."

"I'm not feeding you bull-"

"Yes you are! You were not on the phone with your dads. Why won't you tell me where you were?" Kurt raised his tone as he stepped closer to the tiny brunette.

_ Well, this has been fun. _ Rachel rolled her eyes and went to move past her roommate to get ready for bed. She  _ really _ wasn't in the mood.

"Don't walk away from me!" Kurt said as he grabbed her wrist.

"Leave it alone, Kurt." She didn't turn around to look at him. She already felt the steam pouring from her ears.

"No." His voice wavered off as he sighed. "No, Rachel. Not this time."

Alright then, if he wanted to have it out, Rachel would oblige. She may not be in the mood to argue, but she sure wasn't in the mood to lose either.

"You want to know where I was?" She questioned with a snickering tone.

"Yes. You are worrying me lately." His voice softened at the possibility of finally getting some answers.

The brunette diva pulled her shoulders back and crossed her arms in front of her chest in defiance, "I was with a friend." 

"Who?"

"You don't know her." She snapped with an eye roll and made to move past him.

He grabbed her arm as she passed. "How do you know?"

"Because I know all your friends." 

"Is it that Lucy girl? That one that always texts you?" __

Panic began to set in as her ears grew hot. "What are you going through my phone now, mom?"

"Are you two dating?"

"No." She was sure of that.

"Why haven't I met her?" His voice began to raise in volume

"What's with the questions, Kurt?"

"Because you've never even mentioned her but she's who, I'm guessing, you've been with at all hours of the night?" He was almost shouting now and his hands flew above his head.  _ Always the dramatic _ .

"That's none of your business!"  _ A shouting match now. _

"It is my business! I'm supposed to be protecting you but you, you're, you're not here to be protected."

"What?" And just like that, she felt every emotion she had been starving for the last few weeks pelted one by one at the brunette while her emotional barrier fell to it's knees.

Kurt began to cry and dropped his face into the palms of his hand. "After you and Finn broke up, and we moved here. I - I - I promised I would protect you. I promised I would look after you and make sure nobody ever, ever hurt you again."

"Who-" Rachel stuttered out the words. Looking around for some clue as to what was going on.

"I promised." Kurt choked out. "I promised and I can't if you won't let me." The tears began to flow more freely and immediately all of Rachel's barriers turned to sand and washed away with the salty proof of his raw emotion.

Rachel grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands from his face to look him in the eye. "Shhhh… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been around. But I'm fine. Nobody's hurting me." She pawed at his wet cheeks. 

"Is she taking good care of you?" Her shoulder muffled his voice and she had to ask him to repeat himself. "This Lucy girl? Is she what you need?"

Rachel hoped beyond hope that his own sobs drowned out the waver in her voice when she said, "Sure, sure she is."

And that was the biggest lie she's told him yet.


	5. Some Things are Better Left

It was nearly 4am before Rachel finally got Kurt's tears dried and into bed again. It was nearly 4:30 before she herself got under the covers. And it was 4:47 when she remembered what triggered the whole Kurt v. Her fiasco to begin with.

She struggled to reach onto her nightstand where her phone was to check the text messages that remained unread.

She was only slightly surprised to find who they had been from.

**_Lucy: New Message (4)_ **

She rolled her eyes, already guessing they were something crude. All their messages were.

**_Lucy: You left your bra._ **

**_Lucy: I found it under the nightstand._ **

**_Lucy: You'll have to come get it tomorrow ;)_ **

**_Lucy: Red is definitely your color._ **

The color in question flushed across her cheeks as she typed out a response.

_Rachel: Okay, thanks._

And then,

_Rachel: Night, Quinn._

She was almost asleep when a familiar ding startled her awake.

**_Lucy: Night, Berry._ **

A smile twitched her lips and disappeared as suddenly when she realized that was the first time Quinn had ever said goodnight.

* * *

Rachel and Kurt sat across each other in silence as they buttered their toast the next morning. They continued their silence as he said his gentle goodbyes and grabbed his yoga mat and headed down to the subway.

Rachel didn’t want to dwell on the mix of emotions that still stirred inside her from the night before - the rough sex, the soft shift in Quinn’s voice, the beads of water that dripped down her- Kurt’s tears.

She _couldn’t_ spend the day thinking of the way Quinn’s never quite softened her touch. About how they were always just a touch above brazen, just a hair above harsh - but in a way that turned Rachel on inexplicably. 

While Kurt always seemed to sidestep taking Rachel head on, Quinn barreled right into her unapologetically. And the crash felt inevitable.

But not today, today Rachel was focusing on what would lift her up, not bring her to her knees.

She couldn’t deny that she had been neglecting her work lately, going on less auditions than her self allotted minimum of 5 per month. _The more lines you cast, the more fish you catch._

She decided she would start with a run in the park. It provided the perfect ambient atmosphere for collecting character studies of the New York City strange and normal all while memorizing a catalog of Broadway necessities through her headphones. 

20 minutes and a protein shake later, she was on the west side of Central Park, jogging up a hill and listening to Mamma Mia's original soundtrack on full blast. Her eyes caught focus on an elderly couple sitting on a park bench feeding the ducks and she didn't stop the smile from forming on her face. _Wouldn't that be nice._

_Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved._

It wasn’t that Rachel had given up on the hopeless romantic she had always been. But the girl who would willingly cut out her heart and serve it on a platter to a nice boy with a sweet smile and a complementary alto found herself with different priorities.

She romanticized the city now. She fell in love with it’s lights on Broadway and it’s shadows in the night. She came to the city, green and young, set on being _somebody_ to millions of adoring fans. She committed herself to making that dream work.

But it was a one-sided relationship that at times felt abusive. She more often than not skinned her knees falling to the ground after getting shoved by the endless talent around her.

Here, she wasn’t _somebody_ to millions. She was just _somebody_ among the masses.

She still had her dreams but every day they felt further and further away.

She lost her attention to the song choice she contemplated for her next audition when she felt a forceful thud against the front of her body. 

"Oh shit, I am so sorry." She rushed out as she pulled her headphones out, looking up to find a pair of dazzling blue eyes looking back at her.

"It's quite alright, it's a distracting thing listening to…" The woman in front of her joked and threw her a shining smile as she gestured to the brunette's forgotten phone.

"Oh. Broadway. Mamma Mia." Rachel couldn't help but smile back.

The woman's bright smile was paired with striking bone structure, flowing auburn hair, and a firm body. _At least, it felt firm when smacking straight into it._

She was at least 4 inches taller than Rachel and the way it made her neck tilt back to look into sweet blue eyes reminded her of-

"Oh well, I am very sorry to interrupt you, miss Sophie." The nameless woman winked with a smirk. _A beautiful smile, too._

The brunette quizzically lifted a brow, "Oh, no, it's Rachel, not Sophie." 

This garnered a hearty laugh from the taller woman in front of her as she stepped in closer. "I'm sure it is. I was referring to the character."

"Oh, right. Of course." _Mental facepalm._

"I'm Angela." She offered the brunette her hand in formal greeting. "And don't worry, Chiquitita, I don't think anybody saw."

Rachel couldn’t help but admit that the girl in front of her oozed with charm and, well maybe the hopeless romantic in her wasn’t dead yet. The meet-cute was something a girl like Rachel lived for. 

In fact, if this was life pre-Quinn, she would already be on the phone with Kurt planning her wedding but this wasn’t and she wasn’t and-

A vibration from Rachel’s hand broke her train of thought. "Excuse me, just one second." 

**_Lucy Ray: New Message_ **

**_Lucy: Finn just went to the gym. Come over and help me workout._ **

Rachel couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips any time she got a text from Quinn - despite the clear notion of the booty call.

She typed out a quick response, telling the blonde she would be there in less than a half hour and turned back to the woman she almost forgot was standing in front of her.

"I actually have to run. But I'll try not to bump into anyone again." She laughed and offered another polite smile.

"Well, in case you do, how about I give you my number? That way, if the next innocent bystander isn't as understanding, I can vouch for your sanity." It was smooth and her forwardness was, well, Rachel hesitated at that. "Unless, you already have somebody to vouch for it?" The redhead added with a tilt of her head.

Rachel sat there for a split second and weighed her options before she ultimately decided –

"You know, it never hurts to have more than one person testify for you."

* * *

Like Rachel promised, she was at Quinn's approximately twenty-seven minutes later.

This was earlier than their usual daliences - their affair left in the dark corners of every facet of their lives. 

The apartment was different in the daylight. She had never noticed the colors inside before. A light blue paint covered the four walls of the living room furnished by a brown leather sofa and matching loveseat. A TV sat on a table in the corner with a plethora of DVDs lined underneath. 

Rachel took it upon herself to walk around. She couldn't help her curiosity. Quinn had yelled when she knocked on the door to " _come on in_ " and that she would " _be out in a minute._ "

It was a strange feeling. Being free inside the walls of the taller blonde's home. She was usually led to wherever they would be for the next hour or so and then her vision was blinded by her own eyelids as they fluttered shut at the smell of Quinn's hair.

She was running the tip of her index finger across the spines of dozens upon dozens of books on a neatly organized shelf when she felt Quinn's presence enter the room.

"Have you read all these?" The brunette said the first thing that came to her mind, eyes still trained on worn out casings.

Quinn looked caught off guard to hear her speak as she nodded her head and came up behind Rachel and brushed her long wavy locks to one side. The taller girls craned her neck to lean her forehead on the tan shoulder in front of her, breathing in Rachel’s damp skin. Her fingers lightly trailed up the smaller girl’s ribs. Imaging the symphony they could make together.

"Mhmm," the blonde murmured against her neck, "Every one of them. Some twice." Rachel felt a grin against the sensitive skin of her bare shoulder.

Rachel lost herself in the hot breath that tangled itself in the fine hairs on the back of her neck as Quinn turned and pressed her cheek against the skin under her lips. The singer let out a soft moan at the sensation.

“Which is your favorite?” She closed her eyes as she let the words slide from her lips and the sensation of Quinn’s closeness envelop her.

They were both fully clothed but she had never felt more intimate with the blonde. She felt sharp teeth nip at the junction between shoulder and neck and her mind went back to the _what ifs._

Her breath hitched at the gesture and her body immediately tensed. Quinn must have felt this because her hands squeezed the firm muscles underneath her fingers and spun the shorter girl around to face her.

"Why do you ask?" She husked out as she lowered her lips to Rachel's pulse point.

"No… um no reason," Rachel stammered out, the feeling of Quinn's lips on her neck quickly pulling all thoughts out of her head. "I just never knew you were so studious."

She felt the blonde laugh as the taller girl let her tongue taste the salty skin beneath. "I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me." 

She didn't hide the smirk on her face as she pulled away and brushed a strand of brown hair behind the singer's ears before turning quickly on her heel and walking away to the guest bedroom.

"I guess there are." Rachel let out a sigh as she followed her sometimes lover into the dark room.

* * *

Neither Quinn or Rachel jumped out of bed immediately after Rachel’s 4th orgasm of the night.

Bed, then couch, then kitchen counter (only after Rachel went to get some water) then back to the bed again. 

Quinn truly was insatiable. 

It had been a week since their day-time dalliance and Rachel was starting to feel a small shift in herself. She looked at Quinn longer, thought about her more in the silences.

It was nearly 7 o'clock now and the sun was beginning to set over the buildings visible outside the window of the 5th story apartment. Rachel's mind was still in a haze from the last thing Quinn had tried and she barely registered the blonde lightly caressing her naked stomach with the tip of her pale index finger when the small diva's counterpart spoke up.

"Are you hungry?" The voice was small, timid. 

Rachel's head snapped to the direction of the girl next to her out of surprise. The blonde wasn't looking at her, but at her own finger tracing over the abs of the tan stomach beneath. Rachel's gaze followed and watched the pale digit paint a picture on her skin, igniting a fire in its wake. 

When the finger slowed to a stop, the brunette raised her eyes to meet hazel ones looking back and remembered she had been asked a question.

She shook her head no, even though she wasn't sure. She couldn't feel anything but butterflies in her stomach as a result of the hand that was now laying flat across her.

Rachel couldn't explain the sensation of comfort that washed over her in that moment. The eyes she was staring at gave her that feeling. Like when you are on top of a rollercoaster and for that split second you know it's about to catapult you 70 miles per hour to the ground, but at the last minute gravity will take you into its grasp and lead you to safety. She had that terrifying feeling that she was going to fall, but a comfort to know they she would be caught and cradled in soft hands at the end of it all.

She had this overwhelming urge to reach out and touch Quinn in that moment. Something she rarely ever did, unless it was to hold on for support during another mind-blowing orgasm. She had lost track of whether or not it was because Quinn didn't want to be touched, or because she didn't know if she should. 

Desire took over logic and she surprised herself when she felt her fingertips graze the milky skin of Quinn's cheek.

“Tell me something,” Rachel whispered so quietly she didn’t even know if Quinn heard her.

Quinn purred and smacked her lips before looking up to the ceiling. She didn’t speak for what felt like several minutes and Rachel felt she maybe broke the unspoken code of their arrangement - sex and touch were okay but talking wasn’t.

But then a throat cleared.

“When I was a kid, I never went ice skating.” Hazel eyes stayed trained to the fan as it spun. “There was this small rink by our house that we would pass every Sunday on our way to church and I begged and begged my dad to stop. Every year. He always had an excuse - we weren’t dressed right, it was too cold, Mom was tired, Franny had homework. _Ladies don’t belong on ice, Quinny._ He never stopped. So I stopped asking. I’ve still never been.”

“Never?” Rachel leaned back on her elbows and pulled the sheet up to her chest.

“No, never.” Quinn licked her lips and narrowed her eyes in concentration on an invisible spot above.

“Quinn?”

“Hm?”

“I’d take you ice-skating.”

Quinn turned to look at Rachel. Her light eyes locked on to the chocolate ones in front of her. Rachel felt herself lean into Quinn’s space and it felt… different. She felt like this invisible barrier between them was teetering. 

The air was charged and she didn’t know if there was a way to diffuse the fire that was slowly building in her chest. The fire begging her to climb under Quinn’s skin and stay there. 

She could feel Quinn’s breath on her face and she hummed into the still air. So badly did she want to cross this imaginary line of intimacy they had unconscionably set. 

And then, just as soon as Quinn was there, she was gone and across the room, phone to her ear. Rachel hadn’t even heard it ring.

"Hey Mom. What's up?" Quinn sighed as she ran her hand through her short, choppy hair.

Rachel knew that this was the end of their night together. The bubble had burst and she suddenly felt every bit of naked that she was. Highlighted by the fact that Quinn still, like always, had some sort of clothing covering her.

Rachel tried not to listen to the conversation the blonde was having behind her as she slid her underwear up her legs. 

"Yes, Mom, I know." Rachel could hear the annoyance in the girls voice and fought the want to smooth the wrinkles she could picture forming across Quinn's forehead.

"I'll make sure she doesn't say anything." Rachel turned her head subtly to watch Quinn rub her hand across her face and take a seat at the foot of the bed. "No, Mom. She won't cause any problems."

Rachel felt like she was intruding all of a sudden. 

She quietly made her way around to the other side once she was fully clothed and laid a hand softly on Quinn's shoulder. When the blonde looked up, Rachel motioned over her shoulder to the door and mouthed ' _I'm gonna head out_ ,' before attempting to leave.

Quinn’s hand laid on top of hers, stopping her progress.

She looked up into the eyes that had captivated and unsettled her all night as the blonde girl shook her softly _'no'_ and ' _wait_ '.

"Yeah, well, it's my choice who is there and who isn't and I would really appreciate it if you didn't single her out because of her history with Finn. They are past that. Trust me." Quinn snapped into the phone.

Rachel was taken back. _Were they talking about the wedding? Were they talking about her?_

Her startled expression caught Quinn's attention. "Look, I have to go. I'm not arguing with you again about this."

Rachel was alarmed by how loud the thumping of the phone down on the nightstand was and she made to move towards the door once again.

"She is really getting on my nerves about this wedding. We need to make it through the bridal shower first." Quinn laughed, but it wasn't from her gut. It was on the surface and it was painfully obvious that it was forced out.

This was new territory - she didn’t like knowing anything about the blonde’s coming nuptials.

"Oh, I can only –" Rachel shyly fumbled out. 

"She wasn't talking about you." Quinn cut her off. "I know it sounds like… she wasn't talking about you, okay?"

Rachel nodded her response and went to open her mouth before –

"She hates that Santana is my maid of honor." Quinn offered even more information. "Something about how she is 'loose' or whatever. I tried explaining that she is married to Brit now, but, well my parents would rather her sleep with my fiancé than know she was sleeping with a woman, let's just put it that way." Another forced laugh.

Immediately Rachel felt like the walls closing in on them.

 _This was all too messy_.

Quinn was sleeping with a woman, who once used to sleep with her fiance. And Quinn was going to be _married._ And then what would Rachel be? A mistress? No. Once Quinn was married she would be off limits. That was decided.

She tried not to think about how she should be off limits now.

"I really, I need to get going. Kurt said he would be home early from dance practice and I don't want him thinking anything about… well I just don't want him asking questions again." Rachel stammered out before making the ultimate decision she was _actually_ going to make it out the door this time.

"Are you coming with him this weekend?" Quinn asked nervously as she followed Rachel to the door.

"Coming where?" She really needed air.

"The, um, the bridal shower? You got an invitation, right?" Quinn tried to catch Rachel’s eyes as she looked towards the door and her breath started to pick up.

"Oh, I don't know…Quinn, I - I don’t know." Rachel had a lot of bad ideas in her life, but that one sounded _really_ bad.

And something about that answered snapped Quinn back into reality.

"I mean, it's whatever. Come or don't." Their time had, absolutely, come to an end.

"Yeah… alright. I'll see ya later Quinn." Rachel called timidly as she turned on her heel to leave.

"Bye, Berry." And then the slamming of a door.

Rachel stood on the other side of the door for a couple of minutes trying to think about what had just happened.

 _I mean, that's weird right? Going to the bridal shower of the girl you’re fucking, who, oh by the way, is marrying your ex boyfriend and gay roommate’s brother._ It gave her a migraine just to think about. _Yeah, that's too weird._

Not to mention the butterflies in her stomach were only now just starting to die, and she still wasn't sure if she liked how they made her feel invincible when they were around.

Going to that bridal shower was _definitely_ not a good idea.


	6. Unsaid

**_Where do we go from here?_ **

**_This isn't where we intended to be_ **

**_We had it all_ **

**_You believed in me, I believed in you_ **

**_Certainties disappear_ **

**_What do we do? For our dream to survive?_ **

**_How do we keep, all our passions alive_ **

**_As we used to do?_ **

Rachel could feel the bright lights on her face and lips and throat and it burned in the most organic and wonderful way.

She knew there were people, maybe four of them, sitting about seven rows up in the empty theatre with about half a seconds worth of attention to give her but she let everything she felt in every cell of her body out through the  _ Evita _ ballad.

**_Deep in my heart, I'm concealing_ **

**_Things that I'm longing to say_ **

**_Scared to confess, what I'm feeling_ **

**_Frightened you'll slip away_ **

**_You must love me, you must love me_ **

**_You must love me_ **

This is when she used everything she had been bottling for months to boil to the surface. This is what her voice was made for. 

She was concealing so much, from so many. She was concealing her feelings of inadequacy from her fathers, her lost sense of self from Kurt, and her true feelings from Quinn.

**_Why are you at my side?_ **

**_How can I be, any use to you now?_ **

**_Give me a chance, and I'll let you see how_ **

**_Nothing has changed_ **

Everything had changed.

  
Somewhere down the line, it went from being easy to be with Quinn to being something unbelievably painful.

She had told herself time and time again that she was  _ fine _ with a no-strings-attached, friends with benefits, secret affair with a woman who was engaged to her ex-fiance.

A woman who, if she was honest with herself, had always been the focus of Rachel’s obsession. Ever since they were kids, Rachel ached to be closer to the blonde - emotionally and physically. 

She thought she’d be able to get her fix and walk away - saying she had been there and done that. She thought she could touch Quinn under the sheets and under the cover of darkness and not become addicted. She could avoid wanting more.

How stupid she had been.

She knew now that she wanted it all. She wanted to know Quinn’s favorite color and see her fully naked body splayed open beneath her. She wanted to make her dinner and then make her cum. She wanted to hold her hand in the snow and she wanted to hold her head as she cried.

She let her own tears fall as these emotions took control of her and put a hand to her chest as she battled towards the end of the song.

**_Deep in my heart, I'm concealing_ **

**_Things that I'm longing to say_ **

**_Scared to confess, what I'm feeling_ **

**_Frightened you'll slip away_ **

**_You must love me, you must love me_ **

**_You must love me_ ** ****

Her voice trailed out into silence and she listened to the hum of the lights. The longer she listened, the harsher they felt.

“Rachel Berry.” Came the distant, indifferent voice. She held her hand up to the light to try and see past it’s glare.

She took a hesitant step forward, waiting. Waiting for them to say  _ We’ll see you next week  _ or  _ Can you hang around for a time on a callback  _ or  _ We’ll be in touch.  _ Anything but-

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Berry.”

Rachel graciously curtseyed, turned on her heel, picked up her bag, and left. She held back the tears that had been threatening all the way to the curb.

* * *

Rachel dropped her bag, and then herself, heavily on the sofa and took a deep breath.

She hadn’t expected much from her auditions anymore, but she at least hoped to get callbacks. She wasn’t trying out for Broadway musicals - mostly just off-off Broadway revivals of the terracotta classics. Boring and unoriginal.

No, that wasn’t fair. There was no such thing as a boring part. Just like there was no such thing as a small part. 

Just small actors.

  
Which is what she was… tiny.  _ Worthless. _

She padded herself over to the kitchen island and popped the cork off an already opened bottle of red, poured a glass, and perched herself in front of an old black and white film that was on Turner Classics.

Classic beauty always reminded her of-

Her phone vibrated in her bag and she moved to grab it. It could only be a handful of people.

**_Lucy: What are you wearing?_ **

Rachel rolled her eyes at the conversation starter.

_ Rachel: Nothing but distaste for my own potential and career path _

**_Lucy: That’s hot._ **

Rachel chuckled and let the phone fall to her lap as she rubbed at her eyes. A beat and then,

**_Lucy: You okay?_ **

_ Rachel: Nothing that would be your problem. _

**_Lucy: Try me_ **

Rachel typed and deleted, typed and deleted, typed and finally settled on-

_ Rachel: Do you ever just feel like you picked the completely wrong way to go in life? _

_ Rachel: I mean, I love singing and I love acting and I love the stage but sometimes I feel like it doesn’t love me back. _

Rachel saw the 3 bubbles appear and disappear and reappear and disappear again.

**_Lucy: I understand. Trust me._ **

_ Rachel: You’ll have to remember me, the starving artist, when you’re settling big time Class Action suits - Quinn Fabray, Esquire.  _

**_Lucy: lol._ **

Rachel felt like she hit a wall. She never understood why Quinn started these conversations and then acted like she had no interest in them. So she did all she could to be back where she wanted.

_ Rachel: I can be there in 45. _

**_Lucy: Door will be open._ **

* * *

True to her word, Rachel was there just around 45 minutes later after she showered, changed, downed another glass of wine, and half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

She slid in the open door and saw Quinn’s figure illuminated in the corner of the room by a few candles and a dull lamp, a textbook open on her lap.

All of a sudden the moment just  _ hit _ Rachel. How domestic and easy this could be. How sweet life could be if she could come home to  _ her _ Quinn every night and watch her study. How she could wrap her in a blanket after a night of studying on the couch. She wanted that.

She would never have that.

“Hey, sorry, I was just finishing-” She stopped when she took in the sight of Rachel, in just a trenchcoat, slowly stalking her way over. The look on her face was a mix of hunger, determination, and pain.

Rachel made quick work of the buttons to reveal the matching set of red lace lingerie she had underneath. Quinn’s heat ducked down as a pink hue painted her cheeks and looked over her glasses at the perfect figure that was now before her.

In a swift motion, their two bodies perfectly in sync, Quinn’s hands seized Rachel’s hips and lifted her into her lap. Their problem was never how well they fit together. The two of them like magnets destined to connect. Rachel’s knees dug into the space between the backs of the couch cushions and she rested her elbows on Quinn’s shoulders.

“Hi.” Quinn smiled up at the brunette in her lap as Rachel removed the glasses from the face below her and set them on the forgotten textbook on the other side of the couch.

Rachel was fidgety and her quick darting eyes made Quinn feel like she was chasing the attention of a toddler. Quinn could feel the energy rolling off Rachel. It was an overwhelming sense of sadness.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Quinn continued to stare up at her lover, trying to catch the wandering gaze that couldn’t seem to land on what it was looking for but saw the telltale wetness beginning to fill the corners as Rachel took her bottom lip in between her teeth. 

“Rachel, look at me.” Quinn’s hand grasped the brunette’s chin and pulled her attention so that they were finally looking at each other. There was no mistaking it now, Rachel was crying. Or had been at least. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot and shiny. 

But before Quinn could ask a follow up question, warm lips were enveloping hers as Rachel slipped a wet tongue into her mouth. Their mouths battled for dominance as Rachel pushed back on Quinn’s shoulders every time the blonde would move to stand with Rachel in her arms.

Rachel’s hands desperately clawed at Quinn’s back, as if trying to dig herself into the safe cocoon that  _ was _ Quinn’s presence. 

Rachel  _ knew  _ what she had to do. But she didn’t want to say goodbye. 

So she didn’t. Instead she grabbed the hand at her side and moved it between their bodies. Quinn’s palm flattened against the smooth skin beneath it, her fingers seeking out the wet folds. She let herself tease the bud peaking out, dipping her fingers in to the first knuckle and back out again.

Rachel’s silky wetness coated her hand and she felt it pool in her wrist as she entered her entirely.

Rachel moaned low into Quinn’s ear as she developed a rhythm to ride the hand between her legs. She felt everything at once pulling and pushing inside her.

Every emotion was built up and at her fingertips and it suddenly washed inwards into her gut. She knew she wouldn’t last long as she tightened around the two fingers that pumped inside her.

“More, Quinn, I need more.” She husked into the blonde’s ear. 

Tan arms wrapped around the neck in front of her - looking, trying to get closer to the girl below her. Her hips pumped up and down as Quinn quickly nipped at the tan flesh in front of her. 

“Baby,” it was so faint. So faint that Rachel almost didn’t hear it over the slapping wet palm between her legs and her own breathing but she did and-

“Oh fuck,” and then every feeling, every emotion, every bit of pain and pleasure and sadness and joy rushed through her entire body and flooded out between the folds of her pussy onto Quinn’s hands. Her body emptied itself of everything and immediately, she lost her battle within herself.

Quinn could feel the girl above her as she shook but it was only when she felt wetness in her hand and on her shoulder that she realized the shaking wasn’t just from the orgasm of her lover, but of the tears she was shedding.

“Take me to bed, Quinn.” Rachel mumbled as Quinn’s mouth moved to catch the falling salty drops.. They could both taste her tears.

Quinn pulled back to get another look at the crying singer in her arms and moved to protest.

“Quinn, please.” 

She didn’t say no.

* * *

“Rachel, please!” Kurt shouted from across the apartment.

“Kurt, no!” She shouted back and threw her hair above her head into a ponytail. She wasn’t giving in to him.

“Rachel there are going to be like 20 people there! You are being ridiculous!” Kurt huffed as he stomped into the living room buttoning his shirt all the way to the hilt.

Rachel turned to face him and waved him to come forward to straight his bowtie. “I understand that, but two of them tortured me in high school,”  _ and one of them had their tongue in between my legs 8 hours ago,  _ “and the groom is my ex!”

“An ex who you don’t even care about anymore! You are gay, hello.”

“I am  _ bisexual _ , Kurt.” He swatted her retort away like a bug. “Do not dismiss me!”

He walked around the couch to kneel in front of her and placed his hands on her knee.

“Rachel. Don’t you want to walk into that room looking like a complete 10, show them who you are now.” Rachel scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Show them who they were missing out on for all those years.”

Kurt jetted his bottom lip out, “Please”.

Rachel thought about it. She didn’t want to lose the upper hand with Quinn and she definitely never had the ability to resist Kurt’s puppy dog face.

* * *

She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this was a bad idea the second she nodded and watched her best friend jump up and down clapping his hands together.

And because of this bad idea, Rachel found herself sitting on Santana and Brittany's couch at their home in Long Island nursing a glass of Pinot Grigio and replaying all of  _ Funny Girl _ in her head.

She was trying with every once of her being to drown out the cacophony of laughter filling the brightly lit living room. Laughter of which she couldn't reciprocate. She watched as women in their twenties sipped on over priced wine and played tireless and trite games like "toilet paper bride" and "pass the bouquet".  _ Seriously? People find this shit fun? _

She was almost nearly to Barbara's iconic  _ Don't Rain on My Parade _ when she felt a hand lay down softly on her shoulder and a new glass of wine lowered in front of her. When she turned to see who the hospitable hand belonged to she couldn't help but return the smile she saw.

"Put a smile on, sunshine." Kurt whispered before walking over to take his seat in the middle of a dozen bleach blonde women. Actually, Kurt was the only man in the entire house.

She couldn't help the fact that her lips curled up slightly into a smile at that before it was immediately cut down by –

"Who wants to play Memory Lane?!" One of the overly bubbly girls in pink yelled while clapping her hands together. Nineteen other girls and one guy cheered. Santana coughed on her own spit from laughing at their reaction. And Rachel rolled her eyes. On the downward rotation to the right, she caught sight of the most beautiful face in the room, who was wearing a knowing smirk and looking directly at her.

For the first time that day she smiled a real smile and threw her own smirk back at Quinn.

"Okay, okay, Q, pick another!" Brittany squealed in excitement as the room died down laughing at the last memory.

Quinn appeased the tall bubbly blonde and reached in the bowl for another sheet of paper.

"I hit that bitch with my backpack. She shouldn't have stolen my cookie." Quinn read with little to no emotion. "Aw thanks, Santana. I'm fond of that memory too." She retorted sarcastically.

"Hey, they said favorite memory with you. I gots to keep it real." Santana shrugged her shoulders and took another swig of her beer.

Rachel couldn't help but giggle at the two of them. She never understood how after all these years they had remained so close. Half the time they seemed like they hated each other. But blood is thicker than water, she reminded herself, and these two were most definitely sisters.

"Santana! That's not a very nice memory!" The Latina's wife chastised as she hit the aforementioned girl in the shoulder with her free hand.

"Come on Brit Brit. Tubbers knows how much I love her, or whatever." Santana gave her friend a half smile and her wife a squeeze to the knee.

"Not as much as you love me right, San?" The dancer pouted before her other half leaned over and gave the jutting lip a chaste kiss.

Seeing the two of them made something in Rachel tingle. Tingle with envy, tingle with want, tingle with happiness. She couldn't imagine two people better suited for one another.

"Never." Was the soft reply that came before another kiss. This one lasted a few seconds longer.

"Alright, next!" Kurt yelled as he clapped his two hands together, breaking the two lovebirds apart.

Quinn reluctantly reached her hand back into the bowl and pulled another card.

Her hands unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and scanned over the words. Her eyes immediately shot up, finding a pair of brown ones that bore into her from across the room. Both of them already knew what it said.

"You know, I'm getting hungry. Is anybody else getting hungry? I think it's time we eat." Quinn rushed out trying to stand before Kurt pulled her back down.

"No, no, no. We aren't even finished yet! There are like three more you still haven't read." The boy insisted.

Quinn stared at Rachel again, silently begging for her help.

"You know, now that you mention it, I am absolutely famished." Rachel stood to move to the kitchen as well. That garnered her a glare from Kurt and a look of,  _ what was that? Curiosity? Knowing? Understanding? _ Anyway, she got whatever the look was from Santana.

"Sit." Was all Kurt said and forced her back down. 

"Read it." This time the order was directed at Quinn.

With a sigh and a hesitance, the blonde read –

"I knew in the moment I first saw you, you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever met." She lifted her eyes to the same spot she had been looking before.

Rachel  _ really _ needed another glass of wine.

* * *

They finished the game not too long after Rachel's moment of sheer embarrassment. Nobody really made any comments on the intimacy of her memory and the group quickly moved onto the next person.

The room was now filled with a steady buzz of people indulging themselves in fermented grape juice and meaningless conversation. Quinn and Rachel had yet to directly cross paths.

The brunette stood off in the corner of the room observing the company around her. Or at least, she was trying to, but her eyes kept wandering back to the same person. She watched as Quinn flipped her hair and spoke energetically to a group of girls Rachel believed she knew from Columbia. They laughed with one another and Rachel couldn't help but feel out of place.

She didn't know anybody else other than her former McKinley counterparts. She wasn't close friends with Brittany or Santana, or even Quinn, in high school… if you could consider them friends at all. She didn't really have any friends at all in those days.

She was driven. She was motivated. She was captivated by her dreams. Old Rachel would have taken this opportunity to network and connect with the new faces around her.  _ You never know who will turn out to be a director or producer one day. _ The old Rachel would have insisted the crowd listen to her sing or watch her dramatic dialog.

Part of her missed the girl she once was. Part of her couldn't remember what that girl was like at all.

She watched as Quinn plastered on a smile. A smile she recognized from her years in school with the girl as forced, pained, and plastic. She knew it in the way that her dimples didn't show or her eyes didn't glow. She saw it in the way that the blonde kept her arms crossed around her torso, blocking herself off from any vulnerability.

"Quinn!" she heard one of the girls say, "Where is your mother? I thought for sure we would have Mrs. Judy grace us with her verbose personality today." The question made Rachel cringe at the thought of the woman.

It evidently had the same effect on Santana, who immediately tensed in her spot next to Quinn. 

"She just couldn't make it. My father had a company meeting, and you know the Fabray's, always looking to entertain." The answer was rehearsed. Rachel knew Quinn was used to making up excuses for her family.

"Okay, enough will all the unimportant! You must tell us!" Another girl chimed in. When Quinn gave her a questioning look and the raise of her left eyebrow, something Rachel found to be adorable, the girl elaborated. "Finn! How did he propose?"

Rachel felt the wind leave her lungs immediately. She didn't want to hear this.

"Oh, it's really not –" Quinn began.

"Oh, don't be silly! Every story is romantic." The girl playfully swatted at Quinn, insisting she tell. All the girls, including Kurt,  _ gosh he was such a lady sometimes _ , nodded their heads along. Quinn's eyes met Rachel's briefly before she took a deep breath.

"It was last summer. We were at my parent's lake house. He cooked dinner, we had some wine," Rachel looked down at her glass and wanted to throw it out the window. "He bought me some roses and he just asked. There was nothing fancy to it." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her own drink.

"Sometimes simplicity is the most romantic thing." One of the girls said with a daze in her eye. Actually, when Rachel looked around, almost all of the girls were wearing identical looks.

"I think he's a pussy." Santana, always the blunt one. Brittany smacked her in the arm and Quinn left out a laugh.

Rachel used the opportunity to sneak out the patio door. No, the story wasn't romantic, but it was real. Hearing Quinn talk about Finn as more than a time and location made things more, well, just more.

She breathed in the fresh air to her lungs and it burned. 

She stood there for a while, leaning against the railing, watching the moonlight bounce off the waves in the pool. It was far too cold to swim, but she thought about how refreshing it would be to dive into the water. Maybe that could finally clear her head.

"Mind if I smoke?" The voice startled her - but she’d know it blindfolded and beaten.

“Hello, Santana.” Rachel continued to pick at the fraying ends of her oversized sweater as she stared out ahead.

Santana and Rachel were never friends, nor enemies. They never were much of anything to each other - just simply commingling in the same circles for years. 

Rachel knew that after graduation Santana and Brittany eloped in Vegas on a whim before they settled where everyone from McKinley seemed to settle - New York. She knew Brittany taught dance out at a local ballet school and Santana was interning at a PR firm. Her dad’s brother had left her his quaint home on the water after he lost his long battle with cancer, not having any children of his own. 

She knew they were doing well just from Facebook and Instagram posts. She knew they seemed happy. She didn’t think much of them and she was sure they didn’t think much of her.

Until –

"You have to stop this now." Santana broke through the silence, slowly exhaling smoke into the night’s sky. She continued to look out ahead.

Rachel was taken aback. "Excuse me?"

"With Quinn. You have to stop." Santana never met her eyes, instead shifting focus to the burning butt of the cigarette before stomping it out on the ground.

That feeling of dread took over Rachel once again. Panic, bile, all rising up her throat. She blinked rapidly at the side of Santana’s face.

"Don't play stupid, Berry." Santana rolled her eyes, her head, and then her body to face the smaller brunette.

"I really don't know –" Rachel started on defending herself. Defending Quinn. Defending whatever non-relationship relationship they recently began.

"Shut up. Okay? " And Rachel did. "I can tell. It's so fucking obvious to anybody who cares enough to look for it."

"First, who the hell knew? You, Berry? You and Miss Celibacy club? No shit." Santana let out a small laugh at the mere thought of the two of them in any sort of  _ thing _ . "I always knew Q was playin' for the all girls team, I mean, duh. But you are so fucking boy obsessed it makes me want to barf."

Rachel straightened her back and leaned against the railing in the most forced casual position she could muster.

"Look, Santana, I can assure you that whatever you think is going on between Quinn and myself is merely a misunderstanding. I will admit to some rouge flirting here and there, however it begins and ends with that. I respect the courtship that Quinn has entered upon with Finn, and while I don't necessarily agree with the two of them joining in wedlock, I respect their decision. I harbor no ill feelings towards either party, and wish them all the best in their future endeavors." 

"Fucking bullshit, Berry." Santana nearly caught the attention of the guests inside before lowering her voice and taking a step closer to Rachel _. _

"First, you and Q have barely said four words to each other since you got here. That was tip off one. I know you well enough to know that if you weren't fucking each other brains out, then this," she gestured to the girl in front of her, "would be spewing to everyone in that house. You haven't talked to anyone since you got here, and you ain't shy.”

"Second, I'm not a moron. I can see the looks you two have been giving each other all day. Nothing says 'I want to have your lady babies' like eye fucking across a game of Pictionary." 

"Third, and here is the one that, well, I mean I know you can't argue your way out of this one… I saw your texts."

"You what!" Rachel all but yelled. “Those are private, Santana”

"Yeah, well, I had to know for sure. Sheesh, she should probably put your name in her phone book as something a  _ little  _ more creative than 'Barbara'. Seriously? What's she in your phone as? Blondie?"

"Lucy." Rachel answers quietly without even thinking. 

"Look Dwarf," despite the pet name, her tone immediately lowers and softens. Whatever she is about to say is the final word, "I've known Q my whole life. I get that we kind of treat each other like shit or whatever, but she's the closest thing to family I got here. I'm not a fan of this whole, barefoot and pregnant thing either, okay? I think Finn is kind of a tool. But you? Her parents would cut her off faster than, shit, it would just be really fast. And she is nowhere near emotionally ready to handle a head case like you. And I mean that in the nicest way possible."

Her head tilts to the side, "Do you get what I am trying to say here?" .

"No, not really, no." Rachel shakes her head.

"Sex is easy for Quinn. It's closed off, it's unemotional, and it's unattached. Take it from me, I know. She doesn't know what the hell she wants right now. But I can tell you what she doesn't want. She doesn't want to go to law school, she doesn't want to please her parents like she thinks, and she doesn't want to marry Finn."

"Listen Santana, I appreciate this pep talk, I truly do but you are all over the place and I am too many drinks into this night to understand you so if you don’t mind I’m just going to-"

"You are pushing her to think about things she is not ready to think about. She puts on this hard exterior but she is so fragile. She thinks she can fuck you and not care after, but she does. Of all the people in the world, you are the  _ one _ person she can't ignore." 

"With all due respect, Santana, the relationship Quinn and I share is nothing more than a series of brief, fun, and casual encounters. I assure you that the feelings Quinn harbors for me are nothing of the romantic sort. No more so than an infatuation with the unattainable. She would be mortified if she knew I was divulging any of this information without her consent, however, it is evident that you are already more privy to the nature of our affiliation than either of us had intended. I would appreciate it if you said nothing to her about this, seeing as how it would only do more harm than good, and please just keep this conversation between us." 

Santana moves in closer to Rachel and takes her arm in hand.

“In due time, hobbit. But not yet.”

Rachel wanted to believe in the words coming out of Santana's mouth but honestly, where did this girl get off? What did she know about them… their relationship?

_ And what did she mean about ‘in due time’? Like, what the fuck did that even mean? _

Rachel had no idea what Santana was getting at - like any of this was something Rachel could be doing to Quinn? She was the one hurting, and longing, and praying, and bending over the fucking world just for a moment with the girl she loved.

What did Santana know?

But then - what did Rachel know either?


	7. Unsaid Pt. 2

It took all of one minute, just sixty seconds, for Rachel to process what had happened out on the balcony with Santana before she realized she was alone again.

It was less than that for the panic to completely set in, worried about what damage it would do to whatever silly arrangement she and Quinn had if Santana were to confront the blonde about it.

Santana seemed to have a pretty good grasp on what Quinn felt - but Santana didn’t know how it felt when they were together. Who was she to judge them? Who was she to say what Quinn was and wasn’t ready for?

Quinn could leave Finn and be with her. She could.

She wouldn’t, but it  _ could _ happen.

Rachel rushed back into the house to tell the Latina to mind her business and, well, more importantly, to keep her away from her sort-of-kind-of whatever the fuck Quinn was. 

She spotted the nosey for nothing Latina the second she walked through the door and took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and prepared herself to interject in the conversation the former cheerleader was having with the other two points of the Unholy Trinity.

She would just pull her away from the other two by her hand or arm or ponytail and threaten her. She wasn’t sure exactly  _ how _ this would go over but she had to at least try.

But then, Quinn laughed and swept her bangs to the side of her face and the diamond on her ring finger may as well have been a bullet for the way it pierced through Rachel’s heart.

It would  _ never  _ happen. 

Not in the way she wanted it to. So, she would just have to hold on to what she could have - sneaky kisses in the dark and imaginary declarations of love in her dreams.

Rachel’s heart lept into her chest as Santana bent over to whisper into Quinn’s ear. The blonde’s eyes widened as she pulled back and looked around the room. 

Panic and bile rose up into her throat and her head began to spin.

_ No. She couldn't be. She'll ruin everything. _

As was just thrown into Rachel’s face - she may not know everything about well, anything, when it came to the blonde, but she knew enough. She knew if Santana led Quinn to believe she knew anything of their adulterous affair, it would send the blonde into a complete gay panic tailspin.

She can't take the risk that Quinn will pull away from her completely. She knows what she is to the blonde - a good fuck, a way to get her rocks off. She knows that Quinn is only sleeping with her to fulfill some last-hurrah teen fantasy. It's exhilarating, it's forbidden, and it's against everything she knew of Quinn in their youth. 

It was about control. Control over Rachel, control over their… situationship. Quinn had to have total control. And Rachel knew if the blonde thought for one moment that somebody else, somebody like Santana, threaten that control –

_ Maybe, well, maybe if she does it first, _ she thinks. Maybe if she can tell Quinn that people are starting to catch on to them, if she can at least let the blonde know that they need to lay low for a while, or keep it more secret, or at least tell the girl to stop glaring at her so obviously, then the shit storm that would brew could be put at ease.

"Quinn!" She yelled before any thoughts could continue to spin. Her head was pounding and her palms were sweaty.

Rachel didn't need a mirror to tell her she looked disheveled. She knew she was short of breath from the panic attack that was moments away from setting in and her cheeks were flushed from the racing she had been doing in her mind.

The interruption issued her a raised eyebrow from Quinn and an eye-roll from Santana. The latter of the two quickly set the cup she had been holding on the counter before stalking towards the somewhat shaking brunette.

"Chill, Dwarf." She said in a hushed tone as she passed, before looking over her shoulder at a still rather confused looking blonde. "Baby mama is all yours." And then she was gone.

"Yeah?" Quinn said with such nonchalance before turning back to the sink to, what appeared to be, finish washing dishes.

Rachel carefully made her way over to the other girl. Every step she took was one step closer to an unknown ticking time bomb.  _ If Santana told her, I have about three seconds before that dirty, soapy water is thrown in my face, I have five seconds before people run in, and 10 seconds before I have to think of a logical excuse to why I am sopping wet. _

But none of those things happened. She was simply met with the profile of a girl,  _ the most beautiful girl she’s ever met. _

"Can…um… can," She coughed out the words stuck in her dry throat, "Can we talk for a minute?"

The girl next to her stopped and dropped a bowl into the water carefully before turning to face her fully. "Rachel," She began in a hushed voice, sounding of tiredness and reluctance.

Rachel's brown eyes met hazel and watched them soften under her gaze. Any fire that may have once raged behind those green beauties was left now as just a smouldering pile of ash.

In a hushed voice, "I'm guessing this is a talk we can't have down here, in front of everyone." It wasn't a question. Rachel nodded her confirmation.

"Come on, then." Rachel followed.

Rachel really wasn't sure how they had gotten upstairs. She didn't remember the walk up, or down the hall, or walking into a guest room that looked much like Lily Pulitzer threw up all over it. It was  _ not _ a color pattern she would have ever pictured to even be near a house Santana would live in, no matter how many pouty faces Brittany had given her.

She was also pretty positive by now that her minor freak out over the Quinn v. Santana 'debacle' in the kitchen had been completely unwarranted but she could still physically feel her heart beating out of her chest.

"Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Quinn turned to her with a look that was somehow a mix of agitation and concern rolled into a dough of mirth sprinkled with a touch of impatience. 

The wonderful idea that Rachel came up here with - to tell Quinn that Santana knew and give her the option of- well, she’s not sure exactly - that idea didn’t seem like such a good one anymore.

On one hand, Quinn had the right to know. She had every right to know that her best friend of God knows how many years, was more than clued in to her dirty trysts with the former dork with knee socks. She was, after all, one half of the frowned upon relationship.

But on the other-

Rachel’s eye’s shifted from the blonde’s eyes to her lips and her tongue wet her own.

"Or…" And Quinn stalked towards her, with every step, another thought pushed out of her mind. She knew that look.

Before she could register the girl now directly in front of her, pale hands wrapped around the arms she didn't realize had been crossed around her midsection, peeling them away and leaving her chest exposed, despite the clothes that hung between them. She halfheartedly tried to pry her hands free, but the grip was strong. 

She had to get this out there before she lost her nerve, and her train of thought.

Her mouth opened and shut in a grunt of pain as she felt a dull throb in her back. The hands wrapped around her wrists forced small tan ones above, pinned to the oak slab.

Dark hazel eyes bore into chocolate, challenging a protest out of the smaller girl. One that was caught in the back of her throat, but quickly stuffed deeper by a leg slipping between her own, wetness pooling against better judgment.

She had to, she had to tell Quinn. That's why she came up here.

Man, waging a war within yourself sure was exhausting.

Rachel turned her head away, hoping to regain some confidence that would never come if she continued to stare at the girl in front of her. But resistance was futile as a hot mouth descended upon a tan neck, sucking at the pulse point just below her ear.

Quinn’s mouth may as well get mail delivered to Rachel’s neck for how often it made itself at home.

An uncontrollable moan escaped Rachel’s lips, turning into a groan when she tried to swallow it down. Her hips canted up against the firm muscle flexing between her legs. Quinn pressed forward, leaning her entire body into the singer’s. 

Rachel brought her weight to the knee between her legs and began to grind down as hard as she could. Searching for any friction to relieve the tight ball that was building in her core.

Quinn let go of Rachel’s hands and instead gripped the hips of the brunette, driving her down as she met her thrusts with the roll of her own hips.

Rachel’s head was spinning and she needed grounding. She gripped at Quinn’s wrists and felt the blonde’s pulse quickening. The feeling of her lover’s blood pumping through her veins just made her even more desperate for release.

She was frustrated. 

Frustrated with Quinn for working her up this quick. Frustrated with herself for  _ letting  _ Quinn sidetrack her.

Frustrated that she had let this whole ordeal get this far to begin with.

The lips that had been sucking on her neck released with a pop and a warm tongue licked a slow line to her exposed collarbone and sharp teeth bit down.

A forehead rested against her shoulder and her head instinctively turned into the contact. The pale forehead slid across skin sleet with a thin coat of sweat and Quinn actually fucking nuzzled into neck.

Breathing in the same air, Rachel was positive she wouldn’t never be able to do the right thing if she didn’t do it  _ right now _ .

A noise outside the door rocketed Rachel back into consciousness and she pushed the blonde off her.

"What?" Quinn asked as she stumbled backwards. Confusion evident all across delicate features.

"I came up here to talk, Quinn. Not to be fucked up against a wall while your elitist friends sat downstairs playing pin-the-train-on-the-bride!" Anger Rachel didn't know she was currently housing boiled out without warning. 

"Are you kidding me right now?" the taller girl spat with a frustration.

"No! Not everything always has to be about sex, Quinn." The brunette tossed back. A damn had been broken and there was no sealing the floodgates now.

"Since when?" she chuckled out a harsh truth. Everything between them had only ever been sex.

"I am more than just a body, Lucy Quinn Fabray!” This conversation was quickly going off the rails of every intention Rachel had on her way up here. 

_ No, no, no this wasn’t supposed to happen yet. _

Quinn let out a deep breath and rubbed the tops of her eyes. “What on earth has gotten into you Rachel?” 

But Rachel was here and she wasn’t pocketing this, whatever this was, now. “I'm sick of you treating me like your little play thing." 

"How do you want to be treated? Like my  _ girlfriend _ ?" The word sounded so bitter on the tip of such a talented tongue. The delivery made Rachel cringe.

"Please." She scoffed and seethed all at the same time. "Don't flatter yourself. You would make an atrocious partner. Clearly. Faithful and trustworthy are qualities I value, and obviously two that you do not hold." It was a low blow, and Rachel regretted it the second the words left her mouth.

She took a step towards Quinn, hands out, looking to turn this whole conversation back to the start.

It was too late, though. She had unleashed a Quinn she couldnt, didn’t prepare for.

"Fuck you." She bit. "Fuck you. You aren't some fucking angel yourself,  _ Berry _ . You don't know shit about me and you don't know shit about who I am!"

"Who are you then, Quinn?" Rachel stepped forward Quinn’s space again, poking a finger into her chest. "Tell me who you are since I clearly have no goddamn clue."

Both girls just stared at one another. Breaths labored in the air and the sound of hearts pounding could have probably been heard for miles. No doubt, the words shouted had been heard faintly by the guests downstairs.

"What do you want from me!" The blonde yelled, looking up from the spot her eyes had been trained on the ground.

Rachel didn't answer. She didn't think, she just moved.

In a flash she was in front of the blonde. She wasn't sure how her legs got her there, and she wasn't sure what to do now. She just looked up at a red face and silently begged for action.

A hand on the back of her head forced her up towards soft lips as they met in a bruising kiss. It was nothing like she had once imagined. It was harsh and unapologetic. It was forced and desperate. Hands grasping for anything they could reach as anger melted into despair. Despair that this was  _ not _ a romantic comedy, and that one kiss wouldn't solve all their fucked up problems.

Against every ounce of her better judgment, Rachel sighed. She fucking  _ sighed _ and resigned into the girl holding her up and the lips that, now, more softly grazed hers.

The kiss became slower as a tongue she had only known to be skilled in other ways, showed her talent on a whole new level. It traced her bottom lip requesting entry, which she gave without thought. Tongues didn't battle, they gave way. Hers succumbing to the fate it had brought itself, an ironic metaphor to their relationship, to be dominated and controlled and then released on its way.

The kiss came to a natural end. The initial fuse burning out and leaving two people even more confused than before. A plump bottom lip rested between her swollen ones and just stayed. Neither girl moved. Neither girl breathed, they just rested between each other. The taste of vanilla lip-gloss mixed with… what was that? Salt?

Rachel reached up to wipe a trail of water falling down her cheek and the notion that they were tears hit her like a swift punch in the gut.

Suddenly, Rachel's mind kicked into overdrive as she pushed the taller girl off her for the second time that night.

"No!" She choked out through a yell. "You can't just…" The words caught in her throat.

"I can't what?" Annoyed once again formulated in front of her. Annoyed at being pushed or annoyed at being told no, Rachel was unsure.

"You can't just… kiss me, and expect me to fucking… you just can't Quinn!" The last of her sentence trailed off and she squeezed her eyes closed, willing the tears to stay hidden. She let out a shaky breath and softly, "You can't do that."

"What do you want from me?" Quinn asked again. This time, dejected. Her voice was strained and weak and it almost made Rachel give in. Almost.

"Absolutely nothing." And with that, Rachel Berry was finally done.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. I'm Glad You Came

Rachel made it eight days, only a little over a week, until she found herself missing the company of her former enemy.

They hadn't spoken since Rachel marched down the stairs of Santana and Brittany's two story home and demanded Kurt take her home immediately. Quinn hadn't followed her out of the bedroom, and Kurt never asked any questions.

She only knew it had been eight days because distant church bells told her it was Sunday, again.

She needed to shower. She needed to wash off the stench of rejection that seeped through her pores. Quinn hadn’t texted. Rachel didn’t expect she ever would.

She wished she could pretend it was just the silent that put her in this depression, but the brutal honesty of it all was that she hadn't been alright for quite some time. Not really. Not since she left Lima.

In Lima, Rachel was a star. She was the best voice, the best actress, the one who was going somewhere. That simple knowledge was enough to push her through the gray halls, through her days as the school punching bag, and towards something bigger.

That something had always been New York. Ever since she was old enough to remember, the shining lights of the city looked like home. No, she had never been there before their trip to Nationals her junior year, but that didn't stop her from knowing where she belonged. It was where all budding stars belonged.

So why did she feel like such an outsider now?

She wasn't a star yet. She didn't have what she wanted. She was single, she was borderline impoverished, and she wasn't anything ridiculously special. At least, she didn't feel like it. Not even venturing outside the walls of NYADA, she knew countless people who were more talented, prettier, and had a drive that could flatten her in her place. 

No, she wasn't a star here, she was just another small girl with just another big dream.

"You look like somebody who just got dumped." Kurt laughed off as he walked in to find his live-in-best-friend slumped over a soggy, untouched bowl of cereal and a library copy of  _ Alice in Wonderland.  _ His cheerful voice snapped her out of her sorrowful self-deprecation.

Rachel looked down at her stained with God-knows-what  _ Property of McKinley Athletics _ t-shirt and fuzzy Clifford slippers. Her hair felt matted and oily and she knew her face was beginning to break out after days of neglecting her night time skin regimen. She really did look pathetic. She felt it too.

"Why are you reading that?" He lifted a questioning brow to her as he set his hand on top of a worse for wear book.

She didn't want to tell him that by reading it, she felt it was the only way to know anything about Quinn. She knew it was the blonde's favorite and just knowing that they had read the same words in the same succession on the same type of paper… she felt like maybe she could  _ know _ Quinn just a little but better. But the theory of it all was over the top and dramatically pathetic. It was so Rachel Berry.

"I didn't get dumped, Kurt. I simply am not feeling up to par lately, and have chosen to let myself have a few days." Her defense went up immediately and she snatched the book from under his grubby hands and brought it to her chest. She didn’t want to share this one tiny little bit of Quinn she had.

He appraised her long and hard before picking a fruit loop out of her hair and letting out a sigh that said every bit of  _ I don’t believe a fucking word you say. _

"Whatever you say, Rachel." 

Rachel's heart broke for her relationship with Kurt. Strained would have been overselling the status of their friendship now.

Strangers was more accurate.

He had never been anything but a good friend to her through the years, her best friend, her person, save for a couple diva solo-stealing moments in their high school glee club - and that time she accidently left him in a cab on their way home from a bar. But he always stepped aside to let her be the drama queen she was in the deepest of her core. He never questioned when she demanded the most absurd things, and he was always there to pick up the pieces when those things didn't go her way. Kurt knew everything about her, and she him. It almost scared her just how much.

He had invested so much of his own time in her. He ran lines with her in preparations with rehearsals. He held her hair back when she paid the consequences of drinking away the pain of not getting the part. He pulled all-nighters with her to make sure she was prepared for an exam and he made her waffles before she left the next morning.

He didn’t bat an eye when she came home one night after a late rehearsal for her freshman musical theatre seminar, looked him square in the eye and told him she kissed a sophomore named Bethany and she her eyes were suddenly so… open.

Rachel always felt guilty for the way she closed herself off from Kurt entirely back when her, she hated this word but,  _ affair _ began. She felt guilty but there isn’t a thing in the world she would do to change it. Kurt was such a protector, he would have shielded her from this pain she was in now.

Not just because the girl who, she was quickly coming to understand, held her heart belonged to his brother. But because he was still, after all this time, her person.

He would have stopped her before she had started. He would have kept setting her up with blind dates from the coffee shop he worked at. He would have, he would have-

So yeah, the walls went up. Walls that had been under construction since high school, when the first pornographic drawing of her appeared on the bathroom wall. She was always able to keep up this façade, but the pain was thinly veiled with the urge to fit in. So when she moved to New York she promised herself she wouldn't put herself in the same position again. The big apple was her chance to get it right, to be a functional member of the masses, to live in peace and harmony with the elitist mentality of those surrounding her.

With the exception of Kurt, up until a few months ago, those walls were collapsible. They were put up in the morning when she left her home and went to class or on auditions. But they were taken down the second she walked across the welcome-mat and into a safe sanctuary often filled with the smell of cinnamon candles and Barbara's sweet voice. But the more and more she left those walls up when she was around Kurt, the more and more they became permanent fixtures of her being. Rachel feared they would soon become cemented in place.

The small brunette girl felt smaller than she ever had before. She wished with all the power she held within her she could force those walls down around Kurt once more. She wished she could tell him how she felt, why she was doing what she was doing. Internally she was begging him to chip away the structure, to peel back her layers, and to force her to face her own demons.

She hated that she felt like she was letting him down now. Every time she ignored his asks to hang out, or to share a deep conversation. Every time she  _ didn’t _ get the callback or  _ wasn’t _ selected for a showcase, she reverted back to that girl covered in slushy and waiting for anybody to notice her.

Rachel was always waiting for anybody to notice her. Well, not just anybody -  _ somebody.  _ To pick her. To love her.

Which leads her to where she is right now. Her body pulled tight into itself, wrapping an oversized shirt around her knees - waiting for that  _ somebody _ .

"Talk to me, mouse." Rachel smiled at his voice as he sat down next to her. Maybe he could still read her thoughts, even just slightly.

_ This  _ was the Kurt she loved. So for him, she would try to knock down those concrete barricades.

"What if I don't make it, Kurt?" Rachel turned and rested her cheek on her knee as she wrapped her arms tighter. Her voice sounded so small, if she hadn't felt the vibration in her throat, she wouldn't have known it came from her at all.

"Make what?" He reached out and laid a gentle hand on her arm, forcing her eyes away from the bowl in front of her and onto him. Eyes that were blurry and stinging with tears. Eyes that made him take her into his arms.

"Shhh… you're going to make it." This wasn't the Rachel he knew. She was small and unsure. The Rachel  _ he _ knew would have plowed somebody down for the part of chimney sweeper if need be.

"But what if I don't? Huh? Not everybody makes it out here." She felt her eyes start to leak and she moved to swipe at them before tears could escape.

"You listen to me, Rachel Berry." He pulled her back to arms length and shook her once hard. "I  _ know _ you are going to make it. I know that one day, your name is going to be so bright and so obnoxiously  _ you _ out there on the main stage that not even your biggest enemy will be able to stay away. You are going to be America's Sweetheart, movies, musicals, multi-platinum record sales. Mariah will hate you, Celine will hate you, and dare I say it, even Barbara will hate you." 

The tears had begun to cease before he continued. 

"I don't know what happened to you. You used to be so bright and so full of life. You used to storm out of your own bedroom because your alarm clock refused to stop time when you wanted it to. What happened to that girl? The one who believed anything was possible?" He reached his hand up to wipe away the remainder of her tears.

"She grew up. She got real." The bitterness in her voice didn't need to be hidden. It couldn't be, even if she tried.

"Then put some magic back into this gray, gray world, Rachel Berry. If anybody can, it's you, my little golden nugget." His words were so true and so genuine, Rachel felt them in every part of her body.

Sniffles filled the silence of the apartment as Kurt got up to retrieve the tissues from the coffee table.

"She doesn't know what she's giving up." He added after a few minutes of calculated silence. 

"Wha-" She looked up into his soft eyes as he rubbed a soothing hand over her shoulders.

"This Lucy girl. I'm guessing your overall mood change these last few days has something to do with her? I haven't seen you this upset since, well, I don't know. I just know, whatever it is, is her fault and she's an idiot for it." He offered with a smile and a shoulder shrug. Something about his words was meant to be comforting, and in a way, it was what she needed to hear. Despite him not knowing in the slightest about the realness of the situation.

"It's more complicated than that, I'm afraid." She let out through a sigh; letting the weight of the last few minutes sink down upon her.

"It may be. But if it's meant to be, it will work out. If not, then you'll move on."

"Yeah…" She let the word drag on. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

* * *

Rachel was nervous. That fact was evident through the way she kept spinning her coffee cup in circles on top the somewhat smudged table below. It was evident through the way she lifted her eyes to the door every three seconds and shook her head, mentally chastising herself.

_ She's not coming. You were stupid for asking. _

Rachel kept her eyes trained from the door to her cup, occasionally checking her phone in case for whatever magical reason the sound went out and so did the screen and she received a message she hadn't noticed already came through.

_ Well, good try anyway. I knew this was a long shot to begin with. _

Just as she was about to stand up, a shadow cast over her and a sweet smell of designer perfume invaded her nostrils. She looked up to what she hoped would be a new beginning and smiled.

"I'm glad you came." She said in a small voice.

"I'm glad you called." The husky, low, yet undoubtedly feminine voice responded as she took a seat across from the nervous brunette.

The two women stared at each other for a given time, exchanging awkward smiles and nervous attempts to start conversation. They talked about various things; favorite movies, favorite singers, families and growing up. It was nice to finally talk. It was nice to be listened to.

Yes, Rachel was going to start taking back her life, her self esteem. She was going to start doing it now.

She was going to start with Angela.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorty this time. I promise there is a happy ending to this story. We haven't hit the rock bottom though yet. But I promise once we do, it will bounce back up.


	9. One Door Closes

"So, you sent her to a crack house?" Angela gets out amidst her laughter. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is blinding as she shoots it in Rachel's direction.

"While I will admit, it wasn't my proudest moment, there was no telling what she was capable of! I was not in the position to risk my seat as the lead vocalist. Not when I had so many other threats lingering around me at the time. Up until then, Santana –"

"The lesbian cheerleader." Angela reminded Rachel she had been listening. Rachel used the opportunity to catch her breath and take a sip of her wine.

"Correct. Santana, was my biggest threat for solos of the female variety. Tina was far too shy at that time and Brittany, sweet, sweet Brittany, really only wanted to dance. But Santana was in my way enough as it was. Well, her and Quinn. Her voice was…" Rachel let herself trail off. Now was not the time to start reminiscing about Quinn and her voice and her beautiful hazel eyes and the wonderful way her bravado sent sparks straight from Rachel's spine all the way to –

"Well, for what it's worth, I am  _ sure _ you had nothing to be worried about." The redhead girl in front of her reached out and placed a confident hand on top of Rachel's.

She couldn't help but notice how she didn't feel the spark sear her skin. It didn’t feel like she was burning from the inside out at the gentle touch. She wasn’t ready to rip her skin off just to be able to feel closer to the fingers that were now slowly tingling up and down the backside of her wrist. 

It felt comfortable. It felt safe. It felt nice. 

This was a start, a beginning, a fourth date in two weeks, but it felt nice. 

"So tell me more about Georgia. I've actually never been to the deep south, but I can only imagine it is quite a culture shock to New York." Rachel offered.

"It was an interesting place to grow up. That's for sure. Everything was 'yes ma'am' and 'no sir'. I was raised under the conditions of pleasantries and the house of God, but it wasn't nearly as stifling as the movies make it out to be. Not until I came out. You would have thought Orenthal James himself had just moved in with the way the neighbors stared at me. But my parents loved and accepted me, and that's really all that mattered." Angela replied somberly. Her tone was slightly pinged with a sadness that Rachel could relate to, but it was still bright. Everything about her was bright.

Rachel found herself enjoying the company of the girl. Her voice was deep and raspy and had a drawl that felt like she was being wrapped in a warm overcoat. She was beautiful in a traditional way. She had stunning blue eyes and rich auburn hair.

She liked Sunday mornings and penguins and the Georgia Bulldogs. 

She liked Rachel, or so it seemed.

She grew up outside Atlanta and got her degree at Emory and she was brilliant.

She worked for a PR firm as a Brand Manager for athletes and she was ‘damn good at her job’, apparently. Rachel believed her, she was captivated by her in every way she could be - in every way her heart would  _ allow  _ her to be. 

She was 30, and older, and smarter, and for some reason…  _ she liked Rachel. _ And she wasn’t afraid to show that - even only three dates in.

Rachel had never been courted before. She didn’t even realize people still had the capacity for chivalry and romance and long walks in the park after dark and sending her flowers in between dates. She knocked on her door and held her hand as they walked under the moonlight. 

Angela kissed Rachel softly and didn’t push her for more. She wrapped Rachel up in strong arms and leaned into her body with every breath that made Rachel know that when she decided she was ready to give, Angela was ready to take her body, her soul, and her heart.

She just didn’t know when that would be.

* * *

It was some time later, after Angela dropped Rachel at her door and brushed her lips gently against Rachel’s cheek, that she finally dug her phone out of her coat pocket. 

She shot a text off to Kurt to let him know she was home safe and to enjoy his own date with some new guy he had been seeing.

Just as she set her phone face down on the coffee table, it buzzed and the sound of the vibration against the glass made her nerves seize.

**_Lucy Bray: 1 New Message_ **

Rachel couldn't help but feel a little aggravated that  _ now _ was the time Quinn chose to make some sort of contact.

**_Lucy: Can we talk?_ **

It was something she wasn't expecting. Too little, too late.

_ Rachel: I don't really see what there is to talk about anymore. _

And she really didn't. She was moving on - or, she was trying. She couldn’t put herself through this any longer. She couldn’t put her relationship with Kurt or Quinn’s relationship with Finn through this any longer.

**_Lucy: Please Rachel._ **

She could almost hear the desperation through the words on the screen of her phone. It was enough to give in just a little.

_ Rachel: Whatever you want to say, you can say it to me right now. _

**_Lucy: Can I come over?_ **

_ Rachel: No. _

**_Lucy: I don't like the way we left things._ **

_ Rachel: I don't like a lot of things about the past couple months, Quinn. But what's done is done. _

**_Lucy: I just want to talk._ **

Rachel rolled her eyes. Her patience was waning and she knew she was bound to give in. It was pointless to keep fighting.

**_Lucy: Please, Rach. I need to see you._ **

**_Lucy: I don’t want to leave things like this._ **

**_Lucy: Please._ **

She knew this would be a bad idea. She knew it as she walked down the stairs out to the road. She knew it as she hailed down a cab. She knew it the second she saw Quinn’s face.

* * *

Lucy Quinn Fabray was a planner.

Everything she did was meticulously decided based on which part of Quinn’s future it was aiming to get her towards.

She learned early on in life that spontaneous decisions only ever led to trouble. 

Her drunkenly emotional decision to allow Noah Puckerman a one-way ticket into her pants because she had momentarily felt fat left her with an iligitamate child and a hasty exit from her childhood home. 

Her spur-of-the-moment decision to rebel against typical high school society left her with a rather hideous tattoo on her lower back, which has since been painfully removed.

Her last ditch effort to stop the girl she was - against all better judgement, addicted to - from marrying a guy who could never be good enough for her caused her to run a stop sign a plow into the side of a pickup truck.

Her life was laid out on a course. Get an education she would most likely never use for any of the greater good, marry her ‘high school sweetheart’, plan the perfect dinner parties for him and his collegues, make a beautiful home with 2.5 children and never question the what-ifs.

Nobody ever told her that plans are meant to be completely and totally fucked up.

She never planned on having a child who only knew her as a name signed at the bottom of a birthday card. 

She never planned to lose her ‘high school sweetheart’ to a loud, obnoxious, infuriatingly talented girl who, God knows why, had the ability to get under Quinn’s skin in a way that made it bubble and burn.

She never planned to get him back after sending that girl out on her own to New York to live out her dreams. 

She never planned on them both pining over the same brown headed, big voiced girl and agreeing to their own ill-advised engagement out of loneliness and longing.

She never planned on them ending up in New York, living in a small two-bedroom apartment with a leaky faucet and a noisy neighbor. 

She never planned on having a fiancée – husband – who cared more about where his next drink was coming from than he did about her. 

She never planned on running into Rachel Berry again; still as in love with her as she was the last time she saw her, waving goodbye from an outbound train.

She knew it sounded ridiculous. Hell, it sounded ridiculous in her own head. It sounded even more ridiculous when she got plastered a month ago and told Santana all about how all she wanted to do was cry every time Rachel walked out of her apartment.

She hated how everything devolved between them over the past few weeks, months, years. She wished she hadn’t asked Rachel back to her apartment in a moment of weakness so many nights ago. She regretted how aloof she pretended to be about their entire affair and how it had clearly effected Rachel. She hated how she involved Rachel, even as unintentional as it was, in her miserable, screwed up life.

Her life where she went home to a man she didn't love and who didn't love her. A life she had planned for - but a life she never wanted.

A life that she was told she was meant to have by a family that never truly cared for her to begin with.

But in the end, she couldn’t blame anybody but herself for how unhappy she was. If she had been a better partner, maybe Finn wouldn't have turned to the bottle. (Deep down she knew this wasn't true.) If she had been a better daughter, maybe she wouldn’t feel so much guilt to get it right with her father - and then maybe she wouldn’t be stuck in this relationship just to make him happy.

If she wasn’t gay, maybe she could actually be happy. But life didn’t work that way - her heart didn’t work that way.

She found herself torn between right and wrong. It was wrong to cheat on Finn. It was wrong to use Rachel. It was wrong to never tell either of them how she truly felt. But being there, in the moment, with the girl who truly captured her heart before she even knew what happened… she was powerless to keer herself away.

So, yeah, her plan had changed over the last couple years. Maybe it was time for a new plan. Maybe there was no planning for matters of the heart.

Without knowing how or when or why, she found her plan led her straight out the door and into a bar, sliding up into a booth with the girl she’d never be able to stay away from.

* * *

Rachel sat in the dimly lit corner of Clyde’s for all of five minutes before a vision of blonde and green swept her up and ate her whole.

Quinn fiddled with the buttons on her coat as nervousness and silence strangled them both. Quinn was vulnerable and small and hesitant - like anything she said was going to spook the girl beside her. She kept her eyes on her shoes, on the sticky ground, on the dirty table, on the only two other patrons up at bar.

She slid into the back corner, besides Rachel, and motioned to the bartender for her usual. 

When she finally lifted her eyes she realized how close they were and immediately wished there was a table or an island between them to keep her from reaching out and brushing the pain off Rachel’s face and out of her life.

“I’m glad you came.” Quinn croaked out, listening to how the words cracked and her drink clinked on the table in front of her.

Her eyes saw the emptiness in front of the brown eyed girl. “Can…. can i get you a drink?”

“What do you want, Quinn?” Rachel clearly was out of time and patience for Quinn and her… whatever this was.

“I just wanted to clear the air. I don’t like how you left.” Quinn pressed in closer to Rachel and their knees knocked under the table.

Quinn could see the fire in Rachel’s eyes and just wanted this all to go back to before. To before the shower, before the 6 months prior to that, before the… just before.

“Quinn, it’s one o’clock in the morning. I simply cannot, and do not want to keep hashing this out with you-”

"I know you don't want to talk to me." Quinn interrupted her she knew what was coming. Rachel scoffed and they both sat in silence for a beat.

“I just don’t understand what changed.” This time, when she spoke her voice was barely audible over the mellow jukebox and the beating of her own heart.

The anger Rachel had been taming began to bubble over.

“You don’t understand what changed?!” Quinn bristled at the malice in her former lover’s voice. “Pardon my bluntness but are you fucking dim, Quinn?”

Quinn thought she could just sit here, sounding sad and sorry, and Rachel would just forgive her for… what exactly?

She couldn't really remember  _ exactly _ what it was that she had done wrong, other than the obvious betrayal. 

I mean, sure their whole relationship was convoluted and dysfunctional, but that was how they always had been. They would yell and they would scream and then they would do something so passionately hurtful to the other that it could only be explained away through a love that was so acidic that it couldn’t even be spoken.

No, they had never in their lives acknowledged their feelings for each other. And no, neither of them truly understood what they meant to the girl in front of them - but they were two ends of a magnet that repelled - and when flipped over, pulled at each other without explanation.

“No, Rachel. I don’t understand. I thought-” Quinn lowered her voice, “I thought we had an understanding.”

“Oh, I understand. I understand that you are just a bored little housewife who needs to get her rocks off when her husband isn’t around.” Rachel spat and seethed and Quinn just retracted into herself. 

“I understand that you, Quinn Fabray, have  _ always _ wanted to humiliate me and this is just, what? Another way to do that? Make me so over the top-” Rachel stopped herself before she could reveal her hand.

Quinn didn’t deserve that.

How did she get here? How did they?

Quinn never wanted Rachel to hurt in this… indulgent fantasy Quinn was living out. She had only ever wanted what was best for Rachel. She only ever wanted her to succeed and to thrive and to get far away from Lima and Finn Hudson and Quinn herself.

And Rachel… Rachel wanted to put Quinn together with a hot glue gun and love and watch her blossom into the wonderful person she knew Quinn would be. She wanted to know everything about what made the blonde girl smile, what made her cry, what made her laugh, and  _ God _ , if she didn't love that laugh with her entire being. She wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

The fight drained out of them both as Quinn turned back to her drink and Rachel fidgeted with the corner of her phone case on the table. 

"I don't hate you Quinn.” Rachel sighed. “I just- I just- I can't do this anymore." Her voice was tired, dejected.

"I know." Quinn nodded her head somberly. Her eyes trained on a bead of sweat running down the side of her glass.

"It's not right," Rachel continued. Trying to convince Quinn. Trying to convince herself.

"I know." Quinn repeated.

"Finn would be crushed."

"I know."

"Kurt would never forgive me."

"I know."

"You're getting married."

"I know."

"To a guy who doesn't deserve this. You know he doesn't."

There is no answer and Rachel scooted a little closer until their thighs pressed together and Quinn closed her eyes.

"Everyone would think we were crazy for this." Rachel whispers and she knows, she  _ knows  _ Quinn understands what she means.

Quinn just nods her head and her eyes are still closed and she’s fighting back and ounce of emotion that is trying to seep through.

"I think we are crazy." The words are out of her mouth before she knows what she's saying. And it does its job to move Quinn’s eyes up to her, locking in.

"Rachel…" It's ever so quiet and ever so desperate and Rachel's heart breaks at the vulnerability.

Quinn hesitantly lifts her hand from tracing the condensation and cups the cheek in front of her. Her head tilts to the side and her eyes roam over the innocent features of the tan face wearing the most pained and confused expression she has ever seen. As soon as her hand makes contact, Rachel lets out a shaky breath.

Never have they been so soft with one another, so open, and with so few words. Their relationship was never built on communication, but at this moment there wasn't a need for any.

It was written all over Rachel's face. Hope and sadness poured from her eyes and love. That's what was swimming in those deep brown eyes. Unhinged, unrequited, unchained love. Quinn knew what it was; Rachel couldn't pretend it wasn't there any longer.

"You can't." Quinn shook her head softly. Her voice was pained and stressed and it cracked when it came out and Rachel had to lean in just to even hear it.

"I know." It was the brunette's turn to shy her eyes away and repeat the words that had been slipping from Quinn's mouth only moments ago.

"I  _ can't. _ " It was choked out and it was brief and oh so very small, but it conveyed more to Rachel about Quinn's fears than anything else she had ever witnessed.

"I know." 

A thumb rubbed so softly against her cheek and Rachel couldn't hold tears back any longer. She had never wanted anything more than this, and the fact that she knew it could never have it again shattered her heart like glass.

"Look at me." The blonde said after a moment. And Rachel reluctantly lifted her eyes to search the ones in front of her. They searched for lies, and truth, and hope, and fear, and sadness. But mostly they just found a lonely longing. Something that might resemble love. 

They found Quinn.

Neither moved, neither spoke and neither breathed. Not until a tear trailed down Rachel's face and Quinn wiped the pad of her thumb across it, hoping to wipe away any sadness she had caused the girl in front of her. It would never be that simple.

Rachel wasn't expecting a lot out of their meeting. Maybe some yelling, some trivial attempt at lust filled sex, but not  _ this. _

And so, they kissed.

So soft and so gentle - and so achingly full of sorrow that Rachel choked down a sob in order to feel every bit of what Quinn was offering her now.

It was so different from the other kisses they had shared. It wasn't a beginning, or a middle, it was an end. 

An end to something Quinn hadn't let her mind register she wanted fully until very recently. So she let herself feel. She let herself indulge in the last time she could have Rachel in any way, because she knew once they parted, she had to let her go.

The tears flew down her cheeks more rapidly as the kiss intensified. Rachel’s tongue brushed over cautious lips and was granted access into the mouth of the girl she had always wanted to be somehow embedded in, body, mind and soul.

The fire inside Quinn burned and ached and passion was simmered down to pain. Pain that hammered in her chest. Rachel’s hands clung to the loose fitting Columbia hoodie Quinn wore and desperately hung onto this moment. She clung to the sheer force of everything she longed for crashing into her. Knowing that in moments it would simply…disappear.

When the need for air became too great, their kiss softened. Neither girl wanted to let go and say goodbye. Goodbye for the last time.

But they had to. And they did.

And when they parted, Rachel saw the tracks of shed tears against porcelain skin in front of her. It only served to make her own heart shatter. The moment was too strong, too emotionally demanding, and she could no longer bear to look at the girl in front of her, but she couldn't let go just yet.

Foreheads rested against one another as they breathed in the same air. Neither held onto their tears and they wept. Wept for the end of something they never once discussed.

Quinn placed a fierce and sudden final kiss to Rachel's swollen lips, as hard as she possibly could, and pulled back to rest her head again.

"Don't you ever stop dreaming, kid." She whispered into their mingled breath.

"Don't you stop either." Was all she could manage through a choked out sob before Rachel pulled away quickly, gathered her things, and walked out the door. Walked out of Quinn’s life, like she knew she needed to do.

* * *

Rachel wandered around the city for a while. The thought of going home as per her usual routine was something she couldn't bear. She had to think.

She wasn't sure when she closed herself off to realizing Quinn had made such a mark on her heart. She thought she was alright handling a strictly physical relationship. Whenever Quinn had presented something a little reflective of intimacy in the past, she had shied away instinctively. Even though she told herself she was done with things after the bridal shower, it wasn't until she truly had to let Quinn go that she felt that nauseas pain creep throughout her whole body.

She reasoned with herself that it was simply because it was the end of a chapter, given, a fucked up and short chapter, but still a chapter in her life none-the-less. When things end it's always sad, no matter how badly you know it needs to.

But something about this felt different. It didn't feel like when she had broken up with ex girlfriends or ex boyfriends. It felt like she was giving away a part of herself. A part that had been so attached to her for so long she didn't even realize it was there.

Maybe, she thought, that high school crush had never dwindled, but only intensified with time. Maybe it was never going to be that easy to part. Maybe she never wanted to.

She walked home in silence, letting her thoughts stew in her mind and her tears stream down her face.

She was crying to the end, she told herself. It made it much easier to deal with that way.

As soon as she walked into her apartment she heard Kurt rustling in the background. She wiped quickly at her eyes to hide the fact that she had been crying for hours, desperate to avoid the questions bound to come if he noticed.

What she wasn't expecting was a livid Kurt to walk around the corner.

"How could you not fucking tell me?" He demanded.

Rachel snapped into gear, immediately searching her mind for what on earth he could be talking about. "Tell you what?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think that any of this was okay?" He was fuming and marching and pacing around. She had never seen him so angry.

"Kurt, I have had a truly excruciating night and I really don't have the energy to play some vindictive guessing game right now. So if you could just –"

"Lucy? Some girl named Lucy? You mean Lucy Quinn Fabray?" He cut her off, his hands shook at his sides.

"Kurt…" She breathed out. After everything she just went through, she didn't have the energy to fight, or deny, or explain. 

"Finn knows." He says. Throwing every proverbial wrench into the hypothetical machine.

She didn't have anything to say, but panic must have been evident all across her face. Finn knowing absolutely anything was  _ exactly _ what she wanted to avoid.

"He doesn't know it's you," he offered, his tone beginning to calm. "He just said he knew something was up. He came home tonight and Quinn was in tears. When he tried to ask her what was wrong she just slammed the door in his face and locked him out of the bathroom. He didn't know what to do, so he called me. He said she's been acting really strange lately. He said he hasn't seen her this upset since the school found out she was Lucy and it just… it clicked. I put the rest of the pieces together myself."

Rachel didn't, couldn't say anything. There was no use in denying everything. She was busted. A risk she knew she was taking from the beginning. She could only just hope Quinn didn't suffer the consequences.

"How could you, Rachel? I know you aren't the biggest Finn fan in the world, but if he knew what was really going on-" He shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table. "I… there are consequences to your actions, Rachel. There are people that can  _ hurt _ from this."

"We," she coughed, barely being able to speak the next words without her heart sinking deeper into her chest. "We're done. He doesn't have to worry anymore. She chose him."

"So what? That's supposed to make it all better? She still cheated on him. You still betrayed him. How could you do that?" Kurt had a look of pain and confusion all over his face. He truly wanted to know.

"I couldn't help it."

"That's a cop out reason if I've ever heard one." He scoffed. "I want to know why."

Rachel looked up at him, silently begging to not make her answer. She didn't want to hash out everything she had just spent the last couple hours internally debating. Turns out, she didn't have to answer because it was written all across her face.

"Are you in love with her?" His voice was not accusing or judgmental. Stepbrother Kurt had automatically flipped to best friend Kurt, and that fact alone broke her heart even more.

She nodded her head and the tears she had been fighting began to slip out.

"Oh honey." He immediately was at her side, pulling her into his chest, running soothing hands through her head.

"I know, I know it was wrong." She choked out through a sob. "I couldn't help myself. I tried to stop, I tried to. I just don't know what I'm doing." The words were barely understandable and Kurt continued to run his hands through her hair.

"Does she love you?" He asks, hesitating like he's not sure if he even wants to know the answer.

"I didn't think so before tonight." She sobbed even harder before she spoke again, nodding. "But now… I don't know, maybe?" It was the first time she allowed herself to believe so. It was in the way she kissed her, in the pain of the goodbye, in the pain of letting go.

"Shhh." Kurt whispered into her hair. "It's going to be okay."

"I ended it. Or she ended it. I don't know. But it's done." She told him again, wanting to be sure he knew. Wanting to be sure she knew herself. "We're done."

"Sweetheart, I know he's my brother, and I should want to kill you both for doing this to him. But... Call me a sucker for a happy ending. I don't think hers is with him."

"That's her choice to make, Kurt. Not mine." Her tears began to die down.

"Her heart made that choice a long time ago. She just hasn't realized it yet."

Rachel really wanted to believe he was right. But she also knew she had to make herself think he wasn't. She had to move on. She had to build herself again. She had to let Quinn go. For good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is sort of the end of Part 1. This is the end of them in the "affair" portion of this story. From here on out, we are going to go on a deep dive of the shit show Quinn's life has turned into and it will shift a little bit into her perspective and away from Rachel's (with exceptions here and there) 
> 
> There are some hints in this chapter as to what is coming next. Thanks for hanging it with me!
> 
> Don't forget to vote!


	10. Unfeel

_ 6 months later… October, 2013 _

October in the city was truly spectacular and it was, without a doubt, Quinn’s favorite time of the year.

The way to leaves turned from green to orange to brown. The way the air smelled like new fresh perspective and pie. The way the soft cashmere sweaters hugged her body.

It was also when she felt the busiest, and therefore, the furthest removed from her life outside the walls of Columbia Law School.

She was only four years removed from her McKinley graduation, but because of all the AP courses, dual enrollment, and summer school classes, she got her undergrad in less than two years and was already well on her way to being a Ivy Educated corporate law attorney.

Law school was… fine. It was challenging, and Quinn loved to be challenged. But the end goal wasn’t necessarily what she was looking forward to. She wasn’t looking forward to being a junior partner for a bunch of stuffy guys with a scotch problem. She wasn’t looking forward to slowly molding into her father.

She was envious of all the girls she met in undergrad who were working towards fighting on the front lines for human rights and social justice. She wished she could go work for Lambda Legal or the Human Rights Campaign. She wished she could fight for the kid that she once was - scared and alone and unable to be who they want to be.

She wished, she wished, she wished.

Quinn made the conscious choice to not be gay when she was 15. Well, no, that’s not true. She made the conscious choice to deny, deny, deny herself who she was.

She knew when she was 11 years old and all she wanted to do was brush Zoe Dweyer’s hair. She knew when she was 12 and all the girls started swooning over Andrew DiMarco in gym class, but she was too focused on getting across the monkey bars faster than just to get the attention of Molly Christiansen. 

She knew when Molly held her head up as she cried over the fact that her dad was taking them away to Ohio. She knew when Molly quietly wiped the tears from her face and pressed her lips to Quinn’s just hard enough for all the pieces to fall into place.

She remembered running home and telling Frannie who told Judy who told Russell who told  _ Lucy  _ that God would never let her into heaven if she ever let a girl kiss her again. And Lucy prayed every night that her God would make her right again. 

Make her unfeel.

So Lucy became Quinn and Quinn became a delicate picture of blonde and green and silk and everything that made her traditionally beautiful. And suddenly, she didn’t need to show off to get the attention of the boys and girls and creepy adults and-

Quinn knew when she was 14 and Rachel Berry marched up to her in the hallway her first day at McKinley High School and threw her arms around Quinn’s neck, saying they were going to be friends. She knew it was a sin to feel the way her belly bubbled up under Rachel’s touch so she shoved her off and told her to scram and immediately set her sights on the tall goofy quarterback.

The rest, the say.

Finn was such a nice boy, that’s what Judy always said. “Finn is such a nice boy, Quinnie. He would make an excellent father one day.”

Quinn thinks the other real reason that her parents were upset when Puck knocked her up was because it blew their chances to have that nice boy be their son-in-law one day.

Being with Finn was so uncomplicated. He didn’t make her want to break her vow to Christ or break the laws of the bible. He didn’t tempt her into impurity. He didn’t really make her feel much of anything at all. That’s what Quinn liked. She liked to feel nothing. Feeling nothing was uncomplicated.

And then Rachel Berry had to complicate it. 

Rachel, in her infuriatingly short skirts with her infuriatingly big talent, who made Finn’s eyes pop out of her head and made Quinn want to go against everything she promised her God that she wouldn’t.

So she fought to keep her life uncomplicated. She rejected everything about Rachel and the way her skin prickled when Rachel would brush by her in the locker room or the way her eyes would close when Rachel would hit a note in Glee that made Quinn  _ feel. _

She held on like hell to keep Finn, to keep the last semblance of her sanity. And sometimes she lost and sometimes she won and, sometimes, even when she got Finn back she never truly felt lucky.

_ Finn is such a nice boy, Quinnie. _

Finn was a nice boy when Rachel gave him back his engagement ring, boarded a train to New York and never looked back. 

He was sweet and he held Quinn’s hand when he found her crying in her car that same night - after the only piece of her heart that was able to feel left with Rachel on that 4:10 outbound. 

Quinn got what she wanted. Rachel was gone, off the NYADA, to live out her dreams and be everything that Rachel wanted for herself, everything that Quinn wanted for her.

Quinn knew that Rachel couldn’t bring the dead weight that a boyfriend, husband, with no real future along with her. It was better if Quinn was responsible for lugging around that dead weight.

So she held his hand and then a week later, she let him take her to bed. And only two months after that she let him slip that same ring - the one that Rachel dropped into his oversized hand on that train station - onto her dainty hand and promised not to feel for the rest of her life.

And it was fine, because Finn was a nice guy.

Correction: Finn  _ used _ to be a nice guy.

* * *

Rachel stood in line patiently waiting, as patiently as an up-and-coming diva could wait, watching as people zoomed in and out of the busy little coffee shop in Morningside Heights.

She had stumbled upon the place one night a few weeks ago when she was coming back from a street fair with Kurt and she absolutely fell in love with it. Something about it was artistic, and poetic, and so simply New York, and it reminded her of somebody she wasn't allowing herself to outwardly think about. Not anymore. Something about the place was warm and inviting and she found herself coming back time and time again.

It had been six months since she began to get her life back on track, put herself back together. And she even had to admit to herself, it had been easier than she had originally anticipated.

She had graduated from school, quietly and without fanfare. She had been going on more auditions, thanks to Kurt, who was now known to leave newspaper clippings and Craigslist print-outs advertising small parts in various plays and musicals around the city. Despite her initial response of brushing them off, she found herself putting herself out more. She had no success as of late, but her confidence boosted a little more with each polite rejection.

It was a start.

As was her relationship with Angela.

They gradually moved from coffee dates, to dinner dates, to theatre dates, to sleepovers. They were taking it slow, to Rachel's relief, and they still hadn't totally classified their relationship, but Rachel knew the redheaded girl wasn't seeing anybody else, and neither was she.

The brunette knew Angela was anxious to label their relationship, but lingering demons kept Rachel from taking that step. She didn't feel she was still hung up on, well,  _ her _ , but jumping right into a relationship after they had…she wouldn't call it broken up because that would mean they were together to begin with… but either way, starting something new and official so soon just didn't feel right.

Kurt loved to remind her that six months was  _ not  _ soon.

He had been pushing her towards the blue-eyed beauty. Encouraging her to take the plunge and officially move on. 'It's been months' he would say, 'she's getting married' he would remind her, 'follow your heart' he tried. Although the latter was only said once after they both realized following her heart is what got it broken to begin with.

Angela was a great girl, Rachel reminded herself constantly. She was a sweet southern belle with a great family, a solid career, and great moral values. She was essentially the polar opposite of, well,  _ her _ .

She was over her.

She was.

She barely ever, only sometimes, but mostly not usually, thought of  _ her _ . It was only when the wind blew in a way where she could smell the morning dew in central park - a subtle scent she associated with the blonde's apartment - and she usually didn't walk through there early in the morning  _ on purpose. _ She was only reminded of the sweet bravado of that melodic voice when she listened to Frank Sinatra, a paradox she still didn't fully understand, and she only listened to him on Sunday mornings. She only dreamed about her once or twice a week, waking up with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, and even that had dwindled down to be less and less frequent.

She was getting over her better than she thought. She should pat herself on the back.

_ Screw Kurt for saying she was still in denial. _

Every time she felt those memories of skilled hands traveling down the length of her back and a raspy voice echoing in her ear, she quickly replaced it with thoughts of the sweet redhead instead. Thoughts of her charming smile and her calm southern drawl. The way she was always so thoughtful and cleaned the kitchen after she made dinner and knew Rachel liked white wine versus red. She reminded herself of how Angela was supportive and caring and really, really nice. She was. Like, really nice. And it worked sometimes…

And when it didn't… she walked far across town and drank coffee.

Alright, so her apartment was absolutely inconveniently located from Morningside Heights and sure it was close to a school that she vaguely remembered was significant. And sure, there were places she could sit and read books she didn't and couldn't comprehend closer to where she lived, and sure there were probably places to drink coffee in her own neighborhood. But sometimes it was nice to get out.

It's not her fault the coffee shop was located two blocks from  _ her _ apartment. It was a simple coincidence.

And coincidence was something Rachel rarely questioned.

"Ma'am?" A small voice belonging to the coffee barista who couldn't have been older than 17 broke through her thoughts, alerting Rachel to the fact that she was next in line.

"Oh, hi. My apologies. I'll have a large Café Grande with soy and two pumps of vanilla." She shot a smile at the young girl and searched her purse for her wallet, "one second, I know it's in here… I just…" Her mumbling cut off by an arm reaching around her and handing their card to the waiting barista.

"Make sure it's not too hot, yeah? This one's vocal cords can't afford to be burned. Her voice is too beautiful. And I'll take the same as her."

Rachel froze. A sting of familiarity and want traveled from her ears to her toes under the scratchy voice she could point out anywhere. She hadn't heard that voice in – she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was fine. She was  _ fine _ . She just really needed a second to turn around since her body suddenly became paralyzed.  _ Dammit _ .

"Quinn?" Rachel breathed out. Begging a question that never needed confirmation.

The aforementioned girl chuckled. "Rachel." She repeated in a mock tone, but lacked any malice.

Something about the way her name falls from perfect lips has her intake a sharp breath of air. She can imagine what soft pink lips look like as they form the word, so delicate and bleak. She swears sometimes she can feel them on hers. And the thought makes her feel pathetic as reality punches her in the gut.

"What are you doing here?'' Rachel quickly spun around on her heels to come face to face with the source of many sleepless nights and bitter fantasies.

"Oh, you're welcome for the coffee." The blonde rolls her eyes and takes a step back out of the brunette's space, clearly taken back by the bitterness in the other girl's tone. "And I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? Get lost?"

Two coffees are dropped in front of them and Rachel offers a small smile to the barista whose head ping-ponged between the two girls. No doubt trying to figure out the dichotomy of their relationship. She slips a dollar bill into the tip jar and slid by the taller girl to the sugar counter.

_ Deep breaths _ , Rachel thought to herself. It's just Quinn. Quinn who was her, sort of, friend once. Quinn who was another inhabitant of a great big city. Quinn who hid her feelings so very well. Quinn who would one day be a Hudson. Quinn who smelled so heavenly. Quinn who knew how to use her tongue in such a way that it made every once of her small lithe body –.

It was  _ just _ Quinn.

"Let me guess. It's on your paper route?" The sarcasm in the blonde's husky voice didn't go unnoticed as she approached Rachel from behind. And at that moment Rachel made a mental note to never turn her back on Quinn, the chills the girl sent down her spine were beginning to become painful.

"Something like that." Rachel retorted with a despondence in her voice and she watched the sugar melt into the bottom of her cup before stirring it carefully.

Quinn walked around to her side and leaned over shakey tan arms. Skin brushed and the brunette flinched on contact.

"Sorry." Quinn offered a shy smile. "Sugar." She held up the shaker and cocked her head to the side.

They stood in awkward silence while the blonde carefully measured out increments of sweet grains and Rachel used every ounce of concentration to focus on not spilling her drink and not at all on the way her skin was still burning from Quinn's proximity.

"Sit and catch up?" The taller girl broke the silence with a gesture to an open table.

Rachel wanted nothing more than to say yes. To sit and forget about the past couple months and beg and plead with her emotional psyche to allow her that luxury. 

She wanted things to go back to how they were before, because despite how difficult they had seemed, she still could trick herself into believing she owned some part of Quinn's heart. And she missed that feeling. 

She was fine, she had convinced herself of that numerous times. But one glance at the girl in front of her and she suddenly couldn't remember why she strived for  _ fine _ to begin with. It could be that easy right? Things didn't have to only be fine. They weren't really that bad before, were they? But as she glanced down at the cup the blonde held with a strange hold, she noticed the silver band that determined everything she had done was for all for one reason.

"No." She coughed out the strangle in her voice. "No. I can't."

"Rachel…" Quinn began with a sighing frustration.

"I really just... can't Quinn."

"It's just coffee."

Rachel's gaze fell to the ground and shook her head. "No. It's not."

The uncomfortable silence arose between the two again as neither wanted to leave and neither knew what to say.

"Look, I –"

"I really need –"

They both began at the same time and followed with a chuckle at the expense of their own awkwardness.

"Go ahead." Rachel said with a smile.

"I just wanted to say you look good. Like, you look, I don't know, bright." The tall blonde gave a shy smile and a shoulder shrug. The gesture partnered with the compliment made tan cheeks blush.

"Thanks." Came her shy response.

Pale skin washed over in pink and Quinn shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'no problem' before Rachel suddenly remembered what she was planning on saying.

"I really have to run. I have an audition for an off-off Broadway troupe in 20 minutes and being late is absolutely unacceptable, as you know, so I really must go before I make myself look like an absolute –"

"Hey Rach," the nickname sent a warmth through her body, "that part is yours."

And for the first time in a long time, Rachel thought she might have somebody to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a shorty, but starting to establish how Quinn’s life is coming off the rails and Rachel’s is starting to steady. Total opposite, switcheroo of sorts, from Part1. 
> 
> Just a reminder that Part 2 is going to get dark and twisty and bear with me. Going to have some triggers and going to look bleak... but. This will have a happy ending.


	11. You Walked Into Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick storytime... So when I originally wrote this story back in 2012, I was but a fun loving 23 year old in a new city looking for friends. I would spend my Wednesday and Thursday nights at a local bar called Pulse. We would have the best time there, many of which I can't remember. And then about 4 years ago, an evil soul walked into that sweet local bar and senselessly murdered 49 people in our small community. I wasn't there that night, but I know many people who lost somebody. I weighed changing the name I had plucked from my own experiences in 2012 and put into this story but ultimately decided to keep it. There's really no point to this story - just, hug your loved ones and always remember our 49 angels.

The first time Finn Hudson ever hit Quinn Fabray, it truly was an accident.

Finn always had a temper. Quinn could remember back in high school when he would throw chairs across the choir room or punch a locker when he words would escape him in anger and all he had were actions to convey how he felt.

It was charming, at first - that this big giant of a man would fight that hard to love Quinn - or later, Rachel - and wanted to lay claim to their hearts.

She remembered when she told Finn about the baby and Puck and Finn turned a shade of red she couldn’t remember ever seeing on another human being. She, at the time, liked having that sort of emotional hold on somebody - that they would be willing to get in a physical altercation just to  _ win her over. _

But that was such an immature and naive way to think about the rage that was constantly festering under the surface of the 6 foot 4 quarterback. It wasn’t charming. It wasn’t heroic or cute or romantic. It was dangerous and manipulative and-

His outbursts weren’t always physical. 

Quinn would get so mad at Finn when he would unleash that anger on Rachel. She watched it happen all the time. The way he would gaslight Rachel into believing her dreams weren’t worth chasing after because he was all she needed. And Rachel’s dreams were  _ so  _ important to her, to the world. Finn was just ruining them.

He was flat out mean to her friends. He outed Santana out of spite. He called Kurt a ‘fag’ because his homophobia was uncontained. 

Finn’s anger didn’t get better after Rachel left him for New York. It manifested in different ways but mostly sexually. He wasn’t gentle with Quinn when they rebounded together but to be fair, neither was she. Anything to  _ unfeel. _

He would bite at her neck and she would push at his chest. It was aggressive and it was raw but it seemed like healing and she thought it’s what they both needed to get over the girl next door who moved miles and miles away.

But then, after only two years at Yale, Quinn decided to accept admission to Columbia for her law degree and Finn had nothing to do so he came along with her. Those reminders of Rachel were all over the city and it ripped at the scars they both attempted to batter closed years ago.

Finn, with no education or direction, enrolled in the police academy and soon was a beat cop with the NYPD. And it suited him because he could take out his anger on innocent unarmed people of color and nobody batted an eye. 

Quinn really started to hate him. He was supposed to be better than that.

He was a rookie, bottom of the food chain, and often put on the overnight shifts where he came across the parts of society that civilized people were able to avoid. Drug overdoses and rapes and kids bloodied up by unfit parents.

Quinn would badger him about finding something different to do because he was supposed to be a  _ nice boy, Quinnie.  _ He didn’t need to turn into one of the boys in blue who followed orders of people who had no business making orders to begin with. Russell and Judy loved that they had the thin blue line as a member of the family. It made for a wonderful portrait.

_ Cops are the backbone of maintaining law and order in this country, Quinnie. Who else will keep the thugs and terrorists in line. _

But he didn’t, and she couldn’t stress this enough, have a direction on where to go in his life. He hated that Quinn didn’t need to be taken care of. He hated that she went off on her own to do her own thing and increasingly wanted nothing to do with him.

The divide grew greater and it teetered on the edge of being something that they could continue to pretend didn’t exist.

And then Quinn came home one night from a late night study session with some classmates to find Finn 10 bottles deep into a case and shouting at her.

_ Who is he?  _ And  _ you think I’m nothing.  _ But still  _ please don’t leave me too. _

She tried to get him back into bed with promises of fidelity and forever. She told him there was nothing to worry about and he insisted she prove it to him. He pawed at her skirt and tried to grab at her underwear with drunken hands and she almost just let him just have his way because it would be easier than fighting but then he stumbled too far forward and when she pushed him backwards to steady his weight, he slapped her hard across the face.

She stood there, stunned, staring into the face of the oversized boy who had always directed his anger at everyone but her and searched for any sort of reason why her face now stung.

“Quinn, no. I- I- I-” Finn stuttered and reached for her hand that she unconsciously had brought to cover her face. “I swear I-”

“Don’t.” She spat as she turned on her heels and walked out of the apartment.

She walked and walked and thought and thought about how she got here. How she got  _ right here _ and she eventually found herself sitting on a high barstool at a dimly lit pub that she couldn’t tell you the name of if her life depended on it. 

And then she heard that laugh. That laugh that haunted her dreams and fueled her fantasies. That laugh that she pictured in her head when she was lying to get through a night, naked under Finn. A laugh that could send her into a tailspin.

She knew she should go over and say hi. It had been 3 years since they left Lima, left the train station, left their toxic but passionate dynamic behind. She knew that would be the polite thing to do - just get up, walk over, say hello, have a drink, and go home. 

She spent years wondering what Rachel was doing, thinking, singing. Now was her chance to go and find out. So why was she frozen?

Rachel still had such a look of purity sitting at the opposite end of the bar, laughing with a sweet looking old man who was playing darts just a few feet away. No chance they were here together in any capacity but it was always like Rachel to befriend the strangers around her.  _ She was pure. _ Pure in so many ways that Quinn wasn’t willing to taint.

_ Of all the gin joints, Rachel.  _

So Quinn sat and watched Rachel smile and flirt and laugh with a younger guy with pretty hair who had come to sit beside her.. Quinn wondered and stared and longed. And after a few more glasses of wine, Quinn waved down the bartender and paid her bill, and paid the bill of the brunette she didn’t have the courage to go up to before she snuck out the back and into the alley. 

It was September and she was a coward so she just… went home.

Where she didn’t want to be, to a man she didn’t want to be with. Hoping against hope that one day she would get the courage to come back to this bar and sit next to this girl who got away, open her mouth, and speak. 

And, by golly, she did.

* * *

Rachel was flying.

Her veins were pumping with adrenaline as she turned her key and stormed into her shared apartment. 

For the first time, in a really long time, she felt like she was on the right path. She wanted to open her window and yell to the people below. She wanted to jump on a train and ride it to the end, making friends with everyone she encountered on her journey. She wanted to soak up every single tiny bit of New York and it’s quirky beauty.

She hadn’t felt this sort of spark, this type of being alive since-

“Kurt!” she shrieked into the quiet, empty space. “Kurt” she kept repeating as she ran from the kitchen to the bedroom to the bathroom and then back to the living room. “Kurt!”

The man in question came barelling through to her on the couch and took her hands in his.

“What’s wrong? Are you bleeding? Are you concussed? Sit down. Did you get hit by a-”

“Kurt!” She screamed again right in his face.

“Rachel!” He screamed back, confused and panicked.

“I got the part.” She hopped once up and down on the cushion before raising her hands into the air.

“You what? You got it?” Her friend’s jaw dropped down in his chest and his pitch elevated.

“I got it!”

“Oh my god, you got it!” Kurt, finally at her level, joined Rachel as they both now hopped up and down on the cushions.

“You are now looking at Miss Velma Kelly of the Soho Playhouse.” She shot him a confident smile and she was sure she hadn’t beamed this brightly in years.

“Oh Rachel. I am so proud of you. A lead! That is… that’s, i just have no words.” Kurts eyes started to tear in pride.

“It’s just off-off but, it’s something, right? That’s something?” Her tone softened and she looked to her best friend for assurance that this was in fact something to be proud of.

“It’s everything, superstar.” They shared a moment of silence, both thinking of the journey to right here.

Suddenly, Kurt’s voice snapped in place. “Alright, go get dressed. We are going to celebrate. My treat.”

He offered his hand out to his roommate and she took it as he helped her off the couch.

“Where are we going?”

“Wherever you want. Tell Angela.”

Rachel smiled and shook her arms at her side. She couldn’t wait to tell her dads, and her-

“I have to tell everyone!”

She called Lima and her dad cried while her daddy insisted on booking flights to be there for opening night, despite it being nearly 4 months away. She called Shelby, more to brag than anything else. She called Mercedes and Tina and Artie. She barely kept in touch with most of these people but she wanted validation that she was one step closer to a dream that few ever let her believe was possible. 

Half an hour later, all her calls home had been placed and her finger hovered over the one phone number she had been using all her willpower not to dial the moment she stepped out of the audition.

She scrolled down her favorites list and called Angela instead. 

Rachel wasn't much of a club-goer these days. She had made her way around the NYADA hot-spots when she first started school. After she came to terms with her bisexuality two months into her time in New York thanks to 3 vodka tonics and a blonde junior named Natasha, she scoped out as many of the girl-bars as she could.

She wouldn't consider herself promiscuous. She was far too picky to fall into that category. She hated to admit she had a specific type but, with the exception of Angela, every girl she had ever had relations with was medium height, blonde, fit, and had light colored eyes.

Somebody who had paid more attention to her inventory of trysts may have pointed out a trend of commonality, but alas none did and she could ignore the paradox. She enjoyed it that way.

She hadn't been to Pulse in over a year. Not since she began her fling with Quinn. The need for her to meet women didn't seem as necessary when she had a perfectly capable one who could adhere to all her sexual fantasies at the tip of her fingers.

But today was a new day and Rachel was once again, a new Rachel. And she found herself indulging in rhythmic beats while she held up her martini glass to clink with matching ones held by a flamboyant gay man and a beautiful redhead. The latter of the two wrapped her arm around a slim tan waist and gave a light squeeze and a proud smile.

"To Rachel!" Angela cheered and Kurt reciprocated. Rachel felt a smile form around the lip of her glass and soaked in the moment. A moment that seemed so far-stretched to reach only a short time ago. But it was here now and she was going to love every second of it.

The three of them finished those drinks, and then another round, and then shots that were bought for them by a handsome boy – who Rachel wasn't entirely sure was of legal age, but was obviously crushing on Kurt so she let it slide – and were on another round of drinks before the music began to flow through Rachel's veins and limbs and the brunette swayed her hips from side to side.

At some point between shot number two and drink number four, Angela had Rachel out to the dance floor and their bodies pressed together. The redhead stood well over a head taller than the brunette and in a strange paradox, it reminded Rachel of Finn. The way she had to crane her neck to look into soft blue eyes and stand on her toes to brush their lips together. But her arms were soft and her hands were softer as they drifted up a toned tan back, barely covered by thin material of a little black dress and it made it a little bit better.

The beats of the speakers drowned out the cackling around her as drunken women spilled drinks over their future suitors shoes. Her hips continued to sway as strong hands spun Rachel around and pressed her back into an equally strong front. 

Rachel loved that the woman had such a power and force about herself. Something about the way she was able to control their movements on the dance floor while balancing an almost full drink in one hand while wrapping a strong arm around Rachel's torso was undeniably sexy. And that sheer sex appeal is what made Rachel lean her head back onto a firm shoulder, her hand intertwine with the pale one on her stomach, and her ass grind further into the girl behind her, all while letting out a breathy moan she knew Angela heard. She knew it because the taller girl leaned her head down near Rachel's ear and whispered  _ God, you are so sexy  _ into her waiting ear.

They danced, if you could call dry humping to music dancing, until the alcohol and heat took over their bodies and Rachel needed water desperately. She excused herself from her, well, from Angela and made her way to the bar.

Tiny feet hopped up onto the molding underneath the bar to prop herself up to normal height, hoping it would give a slight advantage to faster service.

"You know, Hobbit, if you use your obnoxiously loud voice, they are more likely to respond." Rachel knew that voice. She could  _ never _ mistake that condescending tone.

How was it that in a city so big, such a small group of people always ran into each other?

"Santana. Always a pleasure." She spat as she turned around. She was rather drunk, slightly horny, very thirsty, and not at all in the mood to deal with her ex-whatever’s best friend.

"Wouldn't expect to see you here in a girly bar. Your keeper know you're here?" There was a reason the glee club called her Satan back in the day, and every time Rachel came across her, she was reminded of this.

"I have no keeper, Santana." To this, Santana scoffed. "I see where you are going with this Santana and you are not going to bully me into talking about her. I know you know her and I called quits on whatever semblance of a relationship we were in the midst of the last time you and I talked but I am not going to divulge the 'juicy deets' to you because she refuses to. There is clearly a purpose behind that, and I respect her wishes. So if you will excuse me, I have people waiting." Rachel patted herself on the back and prepared for the onslaught of vengeance that was no doubt going to be spewed her way. She didn't even bother making a break for it, she figured her neck would thank her for the violent whiplash it would avoid from being spun around by the fiery girl in front of her.

"Calm your panties lady Jew-fro. I get the point." There was a lingering silence while Santana took a long swig of beer and Rachel raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Have you heard from her at all?” Santana’s voice softened and she cocked her head in Rachel’s direction.

"Whose mannerisms?" A sweet southern drawl came from over Rachel's shoulder and her body tensed.  _ Please, not now,  _ was her last thought before a soft pair of lips placed a lingering kiss to the base of her neck and strong arms wrapped around her midsection.

The smirk on Santana's face grew and Rachel's eyebrow dropped, being replaced instead by a look of sheer panic.

"Well, hello." The Spanish girl drew with a sultry gleam in her eye.  _ You can take the girl out of the game, but you can't take the game out of the girl,  _ Rachel surmised.

"Hi." A warm smile spread across delicate pale features. Angela had no idea what she had just come up against as she propelled her hand forward in greeting.

"Santana, a dear old friend of our little Rachel here." Rachel was pretty sure she was going to kill Santana tonight. "And you are?" 

"Angela. Rachel's –" the redhead began and Rachel couldn't keep her mouth shut when she finished.

"Girlfriend. Angela is my  _ girlfriend _ ." Rachel mentally slapped herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The two had not discussed what exactly they were with one another yet, but they definitely had not used that word. 

"Oh! Is that so?" She wondered if she should strangle her or maybe just throw her into the Hudson.

"Yes. And if you would excuse us, we are out to celebrate my new off-off-Broadway role at the Soho Playhouse and I would much appreciate to continue our night alone."  _ God, Rachel. Shut up. Just. Shut. Up. _

"No need to say more, Berry." And that smug smile was gone. Rachel couldn't help the wave of nausea that traveled through her stomach and up through her throat, and she knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol in her system.

A tight squeeze came from behind her in an act to deliver comfort and she couldn't help but feel a little more trapped. "You okay, babe?"

Rachel didn't have it in her heart to lie to the girl behind her, not when she didn't know any better so she forced out a "yeah" and nodded her head. She turned out of the arms that had now loosened around her and gave the taller girl a chaste kiss before whispering that she wanted to go home.

While the waited for a cab, Rachel couldn't help the thoughts that rushed though her at the moment;

She officially had a girlfriend now, apparently, and if Santana was still who Santana had always been, Quinn already knew about it.


	12. Again, Again, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry this has taken a bit. I have been in a Bly Manor headspace for the last two weeks and if you've watched that, you would know why writing this in that headspace probably wouldn't work.
> 
> If you haven't watched it, I strongly suggest you do.
> 
> If you have watched and are as taken with it as I was, I wrote a lil sum'sum for it on this here website. Check it out!
> 
> In the meantime, here is Chapter 12. 13 will be along... soonish. I may be bouncing back and forth between here and Bly world for a bit to straighten out my creative juices.
> 
> Thanks!

_ Smooth hands traveled higher and higher, from her thigh to the dimples on the lowest part of her back, to her shoulder blades, and stopping on either side of her neck. She felt firm but soft fingers knead their way into her heart from the pores on her skin as she watched the candlelight flicker on the wall as her head rested on high thread count cotton. _

_ The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon invaded her senses as she allowed her body to be enveloped in comfort. The comfort of idle hands and a still mind. The comfort of knowing she was at the brink of pleasure in every possible human way. _

_ Those hands ran down the lengths of her arms until nimble fingers intertwined with her own. A lithe body pressed softly against her back and she felt plump lips come to rest on her shoulder. The weight resting atop her was nothing compared to the heaviness on her heart. The magnitude of comfort and care she felt in that instant tying her down to the bed like a ship docked to the shore. _

_ A deep breath escaped her lips as the fingers locked with her own brought all four hands above her head to rest on the pillow. A soft kiss was delivered on her shoulder before lips trailed their way up to her neck. The left hand that rested with hers unlocked to brush long brown hair to one side before trailing down her cheek, leaving a scorching path in its wake. _

_ It made its way to her neck, then to her shoulders and drew what felt like letters into her skin, burning a scar of promises and forget-me-nots on delicate tan flesh. The pain was pleasure and was smoothed over with lips once more. _

_ She moaned at the loss of heat when the body propped itself up off her, laying on the right side of her body. But the anchor of the hand in hers never wavered. _

_ The free hand continued it's mindless journey until it reached the dimple at the most southern spot of her back before it smoothed over and molded to her curves. Another kiss was dotted to her shoulder. _

_ She felt the ache in her core, every nerve in her body screaming for release. The painful throb of acting in slow motion causing her to see spots in the dim light. She gasped when she felt that hand spread her legs and made letters on the inside of her thighs. _

_ She wished she could make out what they spelled. _

_ The spots became larger as the hand traveled higher; almost to the spot she needed it the most. Her back arching to thrust her hips to where she could get some relief. _

_ "Do you trust me?" The breathy voice came mumbled from lips still on her skin.  _

_ She nodded. _

_ Her breath hitched as she felt one finger run slowly and ever so lightly up her core. The sensation was amazing, but the pressure was not nearly enough. Her hips canted again. "Trust me," mumbled one more time. _

_ Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes. Trying to picture the smile she felt on her back. She knew it was beautiful. It was ingrained into the forefront of her brain. _

_ The finger brushed through her wetness again and she willed her hips to remain still. The strokes became more frequent and more forceful with each passing second and the will became harder to control. Especially when the addition of a second finger appeared and both digits circled around her opening. _

" _ Baby." She breathed. Hoping beyond hope the desperation in her voice was masked and the want she felt was speaking in every way she could not. The spots were getting bigger and her mind was going foggy. She itched for release. "Please." _

_ Two fingers slowly dipped inside and she released a guttural moan. The hand still locked with hers squeezed in reassurance as the one giving her pleasure pulled out and pushed back in with more force. _

_ She could feel the wetness dripping from her core below and it earned her a hum of approval against her skin. _

" _ You feel so good." A husky voice echoed on her ear and she moaned once more. Lips traveled from her shoulder to her ear as a sticky forehead pressed against her temple. _

_ It was the most intimate of positions she had ever been in. Lying vulnerable and giving way to the body beside her, all while still holding onto the anchor that kept her grounded. _

_ Hands sped up and kisses were peppered on her jaw. Fingers curled and pushed at the right times as her breath became quickened. She was so close to the edge, she could feel it approaching at any moment. _

" _ Come for me, baby." _

_ Dark spots became bright white stars beneath her eyelids as she gave her body over. She tumbled from the edge and held on tight to the anchor above her head. She opened her mouth but no sound came, just an exhale of bundled up pleasure and gratification. _

_ A single tear slid down her cheek from unbridled emotion she could no longer contain. The feeling of comfort wrapped in euphoria became too great to handle. Soft lips kissed them away as she heard a whisper, "now come back to me." _

Rachel woke to her alarm with a start. 06:30AM, it read. She groaned at the hour and debated rolling back over into the comfort of her memory before her better judgment caught up with her.

She felt wetness on her cheeks and between her legs and didn't know which was more powerful. These dreams were the only place she saw  _ her  _ face anymore.

"What time is it babe?" a groggy voice slurred beside her and the owner rolled her way, slinging an arm across her middle. It wasn't the voice from her dream, the one she so desperately wanted to hear.

"Six thirty. I need to get up." She made motion to wiggle her way out of bed, determined to wash her face of the unauthorized tears.

"Mmm. But I'm up now." Angela said through a yawn, her eyes never opening.

"Yeah, you look it." The brunette giggled through an eye-roll her girlfriend couldn't see.

The arm around her waist tightened as one blue eye opened to look at her. "Maybe you should wake me up then." A smirk crossed pale features and a light eyebrow wiggled.

It was tempting, she thought. But instead she just pressed a quick kiss to the woman’s cheek, turned on the shower, and cried.

* * *

"Again?"

"Again, Miss Berry!"

With a huff, Rachel stood up and took her position again.

Tired didn't begin to cover how she was feeling. This was the sixth day in a row that rehearsal went for nearly 10 hours. Her legs were sore, her voice was beginning to go hoarse, and she found herself dreaming of jail cells and flapper dresses – when she wasn't having inappropriate dreams. Her world was enveloped in everything and anything related to  _ Chicago. _

Days ran into nights which ran into days and she wasn't even sure what time was anymore. Three months of vocal runs. Three months of dance rehearsal. Three months of stage blocking. Three months of  _ again, again, again! _ Three months and now it was time.

The curtain was set to go up tomorrow evening at 7 precisely and a moment 23 years in the making would finally arrive – Rachel would take a New York stage.

Her fathers arrived in the city around lunch and had been sightseeing with Angela ever since. Rachel was nervous about leaving her hard-to-please dads with her girlfriend, but they all assured her they would be okay. Anyway, it wasn't as if it was the first time she was meeting the Mr. Berrys.

"… _ and I know they are gay, but this may come as a shock to them. I have never dated a woman to their knowledge and the mere fact that I am bringing you, well,  _ here _ may alert them to a seriousness that we have not yet reached. That is not to say that in the future it is completely out of the realm of possibility for us to move our relationship into the territory of –" _

" _ Rachel, I promise it is fine." Angela offered with a soft smile as she rested her hand atop the brunette's arms as she clung desperately to the wheel of the rental car. _

" _ Don't do that." Rachel said in a small voice as she ducked her chin to her chest and shook her head back and forth. She had barely registered her own words coming out of her mouth. _

" _ Do what?" Angela cocked her head to the side to regard the closed-off girl next to her. _

" _ Don't… don't dismiss me." Rachel took a deep breath. Her voice sounded unsure and the breath she released was shaky. She cringed as soon as the words came out of her mouth; she knew the redhead wasn't doing anything wrong. _

" _ I'm not… Rachel look at me." Brown eyes pulled away from the steering wheel column and met sharp blue ones. "I wasn't dismissing you. I know this is soon. I know you are nervous. If you rather, I can go check into a hotel for the night and you can pretend I never even came. Hey," She offered with a sweet smile as her thumb stroked the tan skin beneath her palm while she tried to capture Rachel's gaze one again, the brunette looking away in an attempt to avoid conversation. She expected anger from the tall girl next to her but heard no malice in the southern voice, only concern. "I know this is scary. I know this is a big step that we might not be ready for, but I see the way your eyes light up when you talk about your family. They love you, and they won't let anything stop that." _

_ Rachel took another deep breath and rested her head on the back of her hand as her grip began to loosen. She knew Angela was right. Her words were sincere and she was a saint for dealing with the diva's up and down mood lately. _

_ Rachel had been less than a stellar partner since the beginning of their courtship. One minute she was laughing and cuddling, the next she was closed off and defensive. Angela had just taken the good when it came, and the bad just the same. Rachel hated how much she snapped at the girl who had wormed her way in. She was sweet and attentive. She was always there when Rachel needed her. The diva never had to worry about what she was doing. And most of all, she was patient. And that's what mattered, right? _

_ It was new. It was different than it was with- _

_ No, the spark wasn't overpowering. She didn't ache to be with the redhead at all hours of the day. The sex was good, not great, but it did it's job. But those were normal things. Not everything was like the movies. Not everything needed to be like it was when she was with- _

_ Sometimes you didn't see fireworks when you kissed. Especially not months into a relationship. It was completely normal for her to slide out of the honeymoon phase… they had the honeymoon phase, right? _

_ Angela took care of her. Angela was reliable. Angela was ready to move forward with her.  _

_ Angela could give her everything that Quinn wouldn’t, couldn’t. It was time to give this a fair shot. _

_ Rachel lifted her head and plastered the best smile she could on her face as she finally released her death grip on the vehicle. "Alright. Let's go." _

Angela had been right. Her fathers simply chuckled and said  _ we've always known _ after Rachel gave a long winded rant about how equality for love was a necessity and how she couldn't deny that her feelings for women had been a long brewing emotion.

It didn't take more than an hour in Lima before Rachel's dads were head-over-heels for her girlfriend. They were charmed by her accent, they swooned over her admirable career, and they laughed at her candid jokes. They loved the fact that she willingly ate Rachel's vegan substitutes without complaint and volunteered at the animal shelter on the weekends. She was everything a parent could want in a daughter.

Except for the fact that it was clearly evident that their daughter wanted something  _ else. _

* * *

Opening night was a mediocre success. Nobody tripped, nobody forgot their lines – mostly - save for Jonathon, the pretentious prick. Her fathers cried and Angela cheered from the first row. It was  _ almost _ perfect.

She was backstage and she was exhausted. Months of preparation and  _ again, again, again  _ and she could finally breathe. 

She sent a quick text to her Daddy that she would be ready to go in fifteen minutes, after she removed the extensive amount of eyeliner, and to get a cab ready and meet her out front. Earlier, they had insisted on taking her and Angela out for a late night drink to celebrate their daughter's stage debut before they caught an early morning fight back to Ohio. But now, all Rachel wanted to do was sleep.

Rachel rolled her eyes at the knock on her door as she finished packing her gym back and slipped a warm beanie on her head. It was no doubt her fathers and their inability to follow simple directions.

It's where she got it.

The knock became more persistent as she took her time to answer, making sure she had everything ready to go. Checking over everything two, three times, she opened the door briskly, ready to scold her fathers for lack of patience.

"I told you I would be right out." She huffed as she swung open the door to reveal gorgeous green eyes and a nervous smile.

"Hi."

"Quinn?"

She couldn’t be here. Rachel didn’t want her to be here. It was too messy and too complicated and it made her feel too much. 

"You were…" the blonde stuttered under a firm gaze. "Beautiful up there."

"What are- uh- what, um, are you doing here?" 

She had dreamed of this moment before. Opening the door to her dressing room and having the blonde stare back at her. Only, in her dreams, she would have been thrown against the vanity and ripped of all her clothes while hearing words of 'Tony' and 'I love you's' in her ears as she was brought to a mind-blowing orgasm – all before the two would head back to their shared apartment on the Upper East Side and made even more passionate love all night.

But this wasn’t it, this wasn’t right. And all it did was  _ hurt. _

"I came to see your show, superstar." The blonde fumbled with the bouquet of assorted flowers in her hand before she presented them with a shrug. "And to give you these."

Rachel took the flowers and issued a kind smile but it didn’t reach her eyes. As the thorny branches passed from hand to hand, the diva noticed something  _ different _ . Something new. Something gold, and smooth, and heartbreaking.

"When?" she coughed out with a shaky breath. "Kurt didn't –"

"Oh.” Quinn looked down and spun the band on her left finger– “We eloped. Three months ago."

"Oh." Rachel looked down at her feet, suddenly even more uncomfortable with the small space they were in. "I'm happy for you." It was a lie, and they both knew it.

“Rachel-” Quinn moved a step towards her, but the brunette stepped back into her own space, trying to keep the distance between the girl who broke her heart and the shattered mess it was in her chest.

“Please,” Rachel looked up at her and held her hand out, “don’t.”

Quinn sighed and nodded her head as an awkward silence fell over them. 

Rachel felt a litany of emotions in hearing that sigh. She felt sorrow, and bitterness. She felt confused but mostly she felt angry.

Angry that Quinn would have the audacity to show up here, on this special night, with some sort of special gesture, all for what? To show off a ring? To brag that she married the man who she couldn’t have truly loved. Not by the way her tongue felt on Rachel’s skin. 

But that was in the past, Rachel reminded herself. She wasn’t Quinn’s and Quinn wasn’t hers. She was nothing but a stranger. 

They hadn't spoken since Rachel got the part. Not a single word, text, call. Not a mention from her roommate of her name. It was as if she simply disappeared. 

“How did you even know about this?” 

“Does it even matter?” Quinn looked defeated and Rachel needed to breathe far away from this room, this girl.

"I should go. And I'm sure  _ Finn _ is waiting. So…" the acidic bitterness in her voice could cut through grease.

"Rach, please just–"

"I said don't." Her tone was strong and her eyes bore into the green ones in front of her.

"Hey Rach, your dads are getting impatient." _ Perfect. Just fucking perfect. _

The redhead stopped in her tracks as she bounded around the corner, her gaze shifting from her small girlfriend to the blonde stranger. She would have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to not notice the tension in the room.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Rachel's gaze never wavered from Quinn, and the blonde's didn't falter either.

Angela coughed awkwardly in the foreground before Rachel's focus shifted to her tall girlfriend. She hadn't known how long they had all been standing there. Quinn turned around to follow Rachel's attention and lifted her shoulders to what Rachel knew as her defensive stance. Gone was the girl who once kissed Rachel sweetly, Rachel knew that this was head cheerleader Quinn in the room now.

"Hi, I'm Angela." The girl offered with a kind smile. Though, Rachel didn't miss the way her blue eyes quickly ran up and down the length of Quinn's body. "And you…?"

"Quinn." The blonde offered with a cold stare that Rachel hadn't truly seen since within the walls of McKinley. The brunette shuttered at the ferocity of behind her piercing green eyes. Angela retracted her outreached hand when Quinn merely looked at it with a raised eyebrow and scoffed.

The redhead wasn't one to back down, however, as she swept across the threshold of the ever shrinking dressing room and wrapped a possessive arm around the diva's midsection. Rachel was positive she heard a low growl erupt from Quinn's throat.

"Are you a friend of Rachel's? Or…?" the girl prodded, knowing she held the upper hand here.

"Or." Came another one word answer from the snarky, seemingly fuming blonde that stood before the couple, all delicacy of the girl fading as soon as Angela had made her entrance.

The two girls stood metaphorically toe-to-toe for what felt like hours before Rachel felt the need to interject.

"Quinn and I went to high school together. She was one of the main driving factors behind me getting to New York, if not  _ the _ only key of reason." Rachel smiled as she thought back to their numerous heated talks over Rachel’s future. As mad as she had been at the blonde back in high school, she wanted to believe now that her intentions had been pure.

"Oh so you are one of the ones you used to torture her, I presume?" Rachel's demeanor blanched as the harshness of redhead's words echoed in the small room. “I can’t say I recall hearing your name before.”

"I think I have more than made up for our former  _ relationship _ by now." Quinn smirked at the taller girl as she raised her shoulders once more.

Rachel watched the two of them verbally spar like it was a slow car accident that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from. She knew she had to stop this but there was something just so damn  _ sexy _ about the way Quinn wasn’t backing down.

It did always have this same effect on her in high school.

"Luckily for you Rachel is a  _ very _ forgiving person.” I was said with a smile and a press of lips to Rachel's forehead but she knew there was malice behind it. “Too forgiving sometimes if you ask me." 

"I don't believe anybody  _ did _ ask you.”

"Ah," Angela tapped her chin with her free hand, "I know  _ exactly _ who you are now."

Quinn’s eyebrow raised as her eyes darted from the redhead to Rachel and back again.

"It took me a second because you look different now. You know,  _ without _ child." Rachel flinched at the low blow.

It had been about a month into their dating when Angela picked up a framed photo of Kurt and Rachel and 10 unfamiliar faces smiling and holding a trophy. It had been taken their sophomore year after sectionals. Bright smiling faces, all of which Angela inquired about and got a lengthy back-story. All except a mysterious blonde who was smiling giddily as her arm hung over Rachel's delicate shoulder. Happiness pouring out from each one of them.

" _ She's just a girl I used to know." _

The redhead barely flinched but Rachel could see Quinn reigning in her anger, clenching her hands at her sides. "Congratulations on the – " the redhead looked down at the former cheerleaders left hand, "wedding."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose, expecting at any moment for Quinn to start wailing on her, right now, insanely rude girlfriend. But when she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see Quinn hanging her head in what looked like shame.

"Angela, I'll meet you outside." She demanded with a firmness in her tone that left none to be debated. The girl leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek before taking a step closer to Quinn and purposefully brushing shoulders with the defeated girl on her way out the door.

Rachel took in the image of Quinn in that moment. Her shoulders slumped, her head hung, and her ragged breaths escaped her beautiful lips. She looked nothing like Rachel was so used to seeing. The blonde was no longer the girl that stood only moments before in front of her girlfriend, channeling the inner HBIC.

"Quinn –" Rachel began, before she realized she didn't know what to say. The shift was so abrupt, and she couldn't put her finger on what caused it.

"You should go." The blonde looked up with a steely face and blurry eyes.

"Are you sure you –"

"Finn is waiting." Quinn bit back. The vulnerability now gone and replaced by anger. "And so is Angela."

Rachel knew it was fruitless to try and argue, so she picked up the discarded flowers of the vanity and brushed her way past the statuesque blonde. Only a brief pause in the doorway to steal a glance over her shoulder, and Rachel was gone.


	13. This Dance We Do

February in the city was, well, it was cold. Quinn felt the way it stung her bones beneath her clothing and the way the wind whipped at her face as she stood on the street looking up to the building before her. The cold always made her body ache and reminded her of just how broken she was.

“I don’t understand why you are doing this?” Quinn shifts the phone to her other shoulder as she digs into her pocket for the piece of paper with the address she spent the last few weeks trying to hunt down. 

“Santana-” She bemoans, not wanting to have to explain to her once again.

“Yeah, listen, I get it. Sure.” Quinn rolls her eyes. “I mean, no, I don’t get it. Please try and explain to me one more time why this tiny little-”

“Santana, shut up please.” 

“-is worth this much work.”

“Because she is.” Quinn doesn’t really know what her motivation for coming here is. She knows she doesn’t want Rachel to think that she was nothing to her, but she also knows she has no real right to anything Rachel feels. But she has this tug, this gravity, pulling her here - one last ditch effort to make things right.

Whatever that means.

Quinn hears a large sigh on the other end of the phone. She runs her hands over the doorbell, thinking of how it would feel to press it and,

“You know you’re married, right? You do know that.” Santana shifts on the other end and Quinn can tell she’s probably settling into Brittany’s arms, settling into happiness.

“That’s the entire point. I don’t want her to think that-.”

“She’s not going to understand.” Quinn closes her eyes because Santana is probably right. She probably won’t understand. 

Hell, Quinn wasn’t even sure if she understood all her reasons for agreeing to Finn’s courthouse wedding a few months back. Maybe it was heartbreak, maybe it was loneliness. She thinks maybe it was mostly fear of it all.

Finn had gotten worse the last few months. His drinking had escalated and so did the power behind his hands. Quinn laughed to herself bitterly, how wrong the movies got it all.

He never wailed on her in a corner. He didn’t punch or slap or choke her. His abuse was in the way he held her arms too tight out in public. How he would grab onto her side when she rolled her eyes at his temper. It was in the way he forced her into sex she never wanted to have. It was how he would throw the food she made into the garbage and tell her she was worthless.

And she would have left him, but the masochist in Quinn thought that maybe it’s what she deserved. Did she not abuse Rachel, in some capacity, for all those years? She thought maybe she did. She thought maybe this was karma.

“She might,”

“I don’t totally understand.” Santana knew little ins and outs about it all, but not the whole story. She knew that Quinn married Finn out of guilt. She knew that the marriage was destined to fail. But she didn’t really understand it, not entirely. And she didn’t know about the way Finn dotted Quinn’s arms and legs and ribs with bruises. She would  _ never _ know that.

“I-” the door in front of her opens to the lobby and she has this split second to decide. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” Quinn hears the protest from her friend through the speaker as she hits end and smiles graciously at the man holding the door for her.

“Coming?” He asks and tilts his head. And it’s probably time to try.

* * *

"You are being ridiculous, Rachel." Kurt huffed as he watched his roommate zig and zag around the kitchen in a fury.

"Agree to disagree, my fashionable friend." She countered, putting the finishing touches on the vegan cupcakes she had recently removed from the oven.

"How is this anything but ridiculous?" he released through a breath.

"We both know what we want and don't want. This is merely a compromise."

"Rachel, a compromise is made over what to eat for dinner! It is not moving in together!" He pulled at his gelled hair in frustration.

"We are compromising. I turned down her marriage proposal, I felt like this was the least I could do." She reached around her roommate to grab her favorite coffee mug out of the cabinet. She inspected it for any blemishes before she wrapped it in yesterday's newspaper and carefully placed it in a cardboard box.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" His frustration was evident. He just didn't see how his best friend could be tricking herself to believe something so, so, so,  _ absurd _ . "You do hear yourself, don't you?"

Rachel rolled her eyes as she set the towel down on the counter and spun around to him.

"First of all, that is rude.” Kurt scoffed and she pushed through. “Second, I understand that it is not conventional. I know that turning down a proposal is typically a sign of not wanting to be with somebody, but she is prepared for my emotional ups and downs. She's been dealing with it ever since..." She trailed off with a shrug of her shoulder and moved for the plates.

Kurt nodded his head carefully in understanding. He knew the last few months had been hard for Rachel to get over his, now, sister-in-law. But he also knew that his full personality friend was going about it all the wrong way.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity, eating an entire tub of ice cream, and refusing to get out of her sweats for days on end, she simply put a fake smile on her face and continued on her way.

He had no idea that his brother eloped with Quinn. Not until Rachel came home after her opening night performance and casually mentioned it as she asked him to hand over the bottle opener. For a split second he thought she had been joking, until he read the sorrow deeply hidden in her eyes. It lasted for a flash before Rachel simply insisted that she was fine, she was moving on, she was going to keep things moving with Angela and she was going to be happy.

It pained him to see his best friend like this. Settling. She was settling. And she knew it.

"As long as you are absolutely sure it's what you want." He pleaded in one last attempt. He couldn't talk her out of it, but he could support her, no matter what idiotic decision she made. He watched her as her face contorted to one filled with thought. She was interrupted from responding by the obnoxious screech of the doorbell.

* * *

It wasn't that Quinn was expecting a hug when the brunette ripped the door open, but she definitely was not expecting the sharp sting that met her cheek.

"Alright." She popped her jaw and rubbed a careless hand across to sooth the pain. "I probably deserved that."

"Get the fuck out." The brunette in front of her seethed. She expected this. She expected the bitterness. She expected the hatred in her tone. She would just have to push through.

"I can explain." Quinn rushed out. She had so much to say, so much to explain to the girl who never deserved any of this. "Rach-"

"No." Quinn watched over Rachel’s shoulder as Kurt slowly backed out of the living room and back towards the bedrooms. "I am done being hurt by you, Quinn. You keep waltzing back into my life when I am  _ trying _ to move on." Her voice broke towards the end of her sentence and she shook her head. 

"I have moved on Quinn. I am sick and tired of this back and forth. I know how this goes. You come here looking like a kicked puppy, asking if I will talk to you. You make me feel so… and then you act like you did nothing wrong."

Quinn went to open her mouth to defend herself before she stopped.

"Maybe you don't think you did anything wrong. And maybe you're right. Technically,  _ I _ am the  _ mistress _ , the other  _ woman _ . I'm nothing, really."

Quinn wanted to scream out her objections because,  _ no no no _ she was absolutely  _ not _ nothing. She was… she was wonderful and she was everything that Quinn would want if she allowed herself to want things. Determined and proud and worth so much, much more than what Quinn could never give her. 

"But you want to know the worst part of all of this Quinn? I expected you to come back. Each and every time I walked out that door, I waited for you to chase me down. I waited for you to come barreling down the hall after me to tell me not to go. To tell me that you were leaving him. To tell me anything. Every single time I swore I was done with you but all it took was you coming back and giving me that  _ look _ and I…" Rachel paused as the anger in her body shifted to sorrow. "There is this wonderful woman who loves me and you give me that look and I just want… and I can't, Quinn. I can't because each and every time you don't come after me, I break even more inside."

With each passing word, Quinn's heart shattered.

"I can't keep doing this. You can't keep doing this to me. It has been  _ months _ , Quinn. Months. And I just want to… I just want to move on. Why can't you let me?"

The blonde's eyes shifted between the two beautiful brown ones in front of her and had no answer. She had no answer because everything Rachel was saying was right. She wasn't being fair to the brunette. She had selfishly held on to Rachel's loyalty and trust in her – that she knew she didn't deserve – out of pure selfishness.

And maybe she shouldn’t have come here. Maybe Satana was right and maybe she should have just let Rachel be. This was selfish, she was selfish. She was a coward and she was so incredibly,

She had come to accept that she loved the girl in front of her. She had accepted it back in high school when all she deserved was a swift kick in the shin from the diva for how she treated her but was only given compassion. She accepted it again over a year ago. She accepted it when Rachel walked out of her life again, taking her heart with her.

It wasn't fear that kept her from her feelings, it was guilt. Rachel hadn't deserved the verbal and emotional abuse. She never deserved the slushies and the evil words Quinn threw her way. She was just an innocent outlet to Quinn's self denial.

She could remember the day it changed. It was Nationals their senior year. Rachel stood alone on stage, singing her heart out with no holds, no walls, just unhindered emotion. Quinn waited in the wings in her little black dress with the rest of the team for the lights to dim and the group number to start and she just watched. She watched as a light trail of tears traced a beautiful smooth cheek and the beautiful singer did that adorable little scrunchy face thing when she hit the big note. It was nothing different than Quinn had seen before. But in this moment she just  _ knew. _

She told herself to walk away, to never hurt Rachel again. The only way she knew how to do that was to leave the girl's life completely. Hateful words were replaced with silence. It was simple, really. Keep her mouth shut, keep the mean words in, keep the confessions in, keep the pain in. It worked… most of the time.

She had her plan. She had to stick to it.

But now, her plan was shit. Absolute shit. Her plan went to shit the moment she saw Rachel in that bar. She should have turned away, she should have paid her bill and went home. But the 18 year old girl in her that still lusted after the fiery diva decided to be selfish, to indulge.

She lost the fight a long time ago. The fight against Rachel, the fight against herself, the fight against hope.

She looked up into teary eyes and realized that this time Rachel wanted an answer.

"I'm so, so, so very sorry, Rachel." She whispered. The words didn't even begin to cover it. "I know I hurt you. I know I keep hurting you. I can never forgive myself for that,"she hung her head and willed the tears to stay away as she plugged through what she came to say.

"God, I don't deserve it. You will never know how horrible I feel for everything I have ever done to you. I didn't come here to ask you to forgive me.” It was at that moment that Quinn couldn't exactly pinpoint her reasoning for knocking on the blonde's door. Selfish, she thought. Selfish, selfish. But,

"I just miss you. So fucking much sometimes that I forget that… It's not my place, I know. It's not my place to be here and to cry and to miss you and...  _ God, _ I should not be the one crying! I hurt you and I deserve anything you say to me and more." Quinn tried with every ounce of being to keep the tears at bay, but a few rogue drops leaked out anyway.

"I want you to be happy. I know that you can't be, not with me doing this all the time. It's unbalanced and it's confusing and I know that. I know that I don't talk, but I can't walk away from you until I say everything I have to say. Until you aren't as in the dark."

_ Love isn't selfish. It's time to be selfless. It's time to tell her. _

"Come with me." Quinn husked so quietly, Rachel had to lean in to hear it.

"Quinn, I am so far away from done with this." Rachel sounded tired and Quinn didn’t blame her. She was tired too.

"Rachel, please. You can never speak to me again after this but I cannot let you walk away without knowing everything."

Despite all of her better judgment, Rachel shakily accepted Quinn's outreached hand and followed the girl to the nearest Subway station.

* * *

Neither girl spoke a word on the familiar trek to the blonde's apartment. Rachel's thoughts the entire time were to run the other way, let her feet take her far from pain and hurt and the spell Quinn held over her.

She thought she was going to, until she crossed the threshold of the apartment that held so many of her demons. Wordlessly, Quinn flipped on the dim overhead light in the front hallway and set her keys down on the kitchen counter as she continued to walk into the living room and directed Rachel to sit down on the unwelcoming couch.

Rachel cautiously sat, as if the fibers beneath her would burn her flesh through her clothes and send her straight to hell.

She wasn't convinced she wasn't already there sometimes.

Rachel watched as Quinn slowly unzipped her jacket and tossed it carelessly to the floor. Hazel eyes never breaking contact with brown. She worried her lip in concentration as shaky hands moved to the hem of her shirt and slowly started to pull up.

Rachel scoffed at what she believed the action meant. "I will absolutely not engage in any type of intercourse with you, Quinn Fabray. And if you think for one second that I would allow myself to stoop as low to – "

Quinn paused her actions when Rachel began to stand – clearly making to move out of the apartment.

But then… Rachel was halted by the sight in front of her. This was not the overly confident Quinn. This was not the girl who would previously rip her clothes and fuck her ten ways to Egypt without a single thought. This girl had tears in her eyes and a hitch in her throat when she mumbled "please, Rachel, just please."

Rachel tried not to let her eyes rake over every inch of milky skin as it was revealed. She had only seen Quinn shirtless a small handful of times in the past and each time it was under the glow of moonlight. She almost always insisted on ravishing Rachel without so much as removing a sock on herself.

As soon as the shirt hit the floor near its discarded companion, Rachel moved her eyes over a shoulder covered now by only a small black bra strap to focus on the mantle above the fireplace. She only noticed in the forefront of her sight that the body she was avoiding was now moving impossibly close and kneeling down in front of her.

It was only when a smooth hand touched the side of her face that she took in the girl before her. Tears in hazel eyes were no longer being kept at bay, but were freely cascading down smooth cheeks. Rachel's heart shattered a little bit at how broken the normally stoic-to-a-flaw girl appeared.

"I'm not good at words, but I need to tell you. I have so much to tell you, secrets to tell you but I don't have the words." The brunette's face washed over in confusion at the vulnerability in the usually stoic voice. It was heartbreaking to hear.

Rachel would have thought to get the hell out and never look back when Quinn reached for her hand and moved it to the clasp on her back. She would have stopped her fingers when they released the two points of material from their hold and let the remaining article of clothing fall free to the floor. She would have, if Quinn's tears hadn't turned into quiet sobs.

Quinn's face wasn't bashful or aroused now that she was exposed. Her cheeks weren't flushed red and her eyes weren't black with want. Her nipples didn't grow hard in anticipation and her underwear didn't soak uncomfortably so. Instead, she choked back more tears as Rachel looked down and saw a secret she had so desperately been trying to hide.

"Quinn." Rachel's voice was soft as she took in the black and blue splotches painted all across delicate skin. "You are covered."

"Are those – " Rachel had to clear her throat to ask the question. "Did he do this to you?"

Quinn fought everything inside herself at the urge to cover up. She felt ashamed at what she had let happen to herself. But that wasn't the purpose of bringing Rachel up here. The purpose was to finally be honest with Rachel, with herself.

"Yes." Blonde hair bobbed up and down and Quinn silently wondered how her body continued to produce so many tears.

Rachel allowed her eyes to drift from rib to rib and they climbed higher up the small frame in front of her. Each one was a slightly different color and each one probably had its own story. Each looked deeper and more painful than the one before. The darker the colors, the more Rachel's heart broke.

She couldn't control when her hand slowly reached up to feel the skin under the scrutiny of her eyes. The skin looked lifeless and the brunette tried to count the number of times she saw the bones below rise and fall with staggered breaths.

Quinn moved to flinch when Rachel's fingertips ghosted and Rachel's heart shattered further at the action as her hands retracted back to her sides.

"Please,” Rachel heard from above her downturned head. “Try again.” The voice was soft and vulnerable and Rachel didn't even need to ask what exactly the girl meant.

She reached her fingers out again and prepared herself for the flinch she knew was coming. She allowed Quinn to squirm when the bare tips of her fingers brushed along purple flesh. The touch ignited something within both and actions were beyond control.

She couldn't explain why she rested her forehead in the crook of Quinn's breastbone and sobbed. And she couldn't explain why the girl comforted her, despite being in a mass of her own pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really do promise this has a happy ending. We just aren't there yet.


	14. why don't you stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. Idk how I feel about this chapter. We are getting on to the last leg here so just wanted to move us to that point. Anyway, here's 4000 words of nonsensery.

Neither girl knew how long they sat there as Rachel let her body wash over in sympathy and guilt and pain and nothing. Neither knew when Quinn had moved to Rachel's side on the couch and draped a blanket over her own cold shoulders. And neither knew when both let exhaustion take over and sleep invade them.

Quinn woke first and allowed a small smile to etch the left side of her mouth at the sight of completely disheveled brown hair splayed across her lap. She pulled the scratchy wool blanket tighter around her naked torso with her left hand as her right reached out to smooth the hair below.

She wasn't sure if it was the ministrations or the hushed 'thank you' that stirred Rachel, but she let her smile reach both sides of her mouth when sleep filled brown eyes blinked up at her.

"How long was I out?" Rachel asked through a yawn, barely seeming to note the hand that continued to rake lightly through her hair.

"Dunno. I just woke up." Quinn winced as she moved to stretch out her back without moving the girl draped across her.

Rachel felt so soft against her. Quinn’s mind ran over how nice this felt, to be able to just hold Rachel without any preamble or fear that her secrets would come spilling out. They were out now, there was no putting them back.

Quinn wanted to pause, take this moment in, because she knew once the spell was broken it wouldn’t come back. They couldn’t come back to this. This was her goodbye, her final goodbye, for real this time.

But the silence couldn’t linger on forever and Quinn knew there were still questions that Rachel wanted answered. Questions like,

"Why did you marry him?" Rachel’s voice broke into Quinn’s ear and the blonde just thought about how this, everything, was her fault.

Quinn let out a breath through her teeth and tried to figure out how she could even begin to explain something that she wasn’t even sure she fully understood herself. It was a question that anybody with common sense would think to ask her. It didn’t mean that she had all the answers.

But she had to try.

“I never thought I’d leave Lima.” Quinn started, fiddling with the tips of her fingers. Rachel stared into the side of her cheek. “I thought I was destined to stay there, ya know? I thought no matter what I did, who I met, I was supposed to be a woman, just like my mom, taking care of her husband. To love, to honor, but most importantly to obey.” 

“When Finn and- when the two of you broke up, I was so insanely happy. Not for me, for you. I was so happy you were getting out of that… toxic trap. You were such a star, Rach.”

She heard Rachel take in a sharp breath. Quinn fought off the urge to crawl into herself and put her walls back up as she tugged the blanket tighter around her.

“I never thought I was going to get out and then you were gone and I felt this massive void and Finn was there and he was kind and when he told me he would keep me company wherever I went…” Quinn stops for a moment and looks to the ceiling. The popcorn ceiling was flaking and she felt how it cracked deep inside her own chest.

"He wasn't always like this." Rachel scoffed but Quinn continued. "Back when we were in high school he was such a good guy. Goofy and naive, but a good guy. He was my best friend and I could tell him everything. Yeah, we had our ups and downs but he was the only person who ever really listened to me and believed in me without judgment."

"I had all these pressures from my family, from my friends, to be this perfect person. I never felt like he had those expectations from me. So when he proposed I felt like it was the next step in this perfectly calculated life I was bound to live."

Quinn was thankful that Rachel just sat and watched her, the way the words formed on her tongue and the way her eyes dulled with every word. But she didn't press, she just patiently waited for the blonde to continue.

"I never really wanted to be a lawyer, ya know? I wanted to paint. I wanted to go to art school up here. But that's not the dream, is it? To be a starving artist in the big city waiting for the next break, the next meal, the next paycheck. I had this life planned out for me. I had these expectations to live up to. I really thought it was all on its way to being a storybook ending until that night I walked into Clydes." Quinn let out a dry chuckle and Rachel couldn't remember the last time she took a breath.

“I saw you before, you know? I walked in, I saw you- well, I heard you- and I couldn’t bring myself to get up the courage to just come say... hi. So I went back again, and you weren’t there so I kept going back and back until one day-”

“I was there.”

“You were there.”

"The night I first came in… it was the first night he hit me. He wasn't Finn. He wasn't the Finn I knew as a kid or the Finn I had brought with me to New York. He was angry and mean. I stormed out, went down to Clydes and I saw you. And you looked so beautifully sad." Quinn let out a sad lopsided smile at the girl next to her and reached a pale hand up to cup a perfectly rounded cheek.

“I never meant to drag you into this fucking mess, Rachel. That’s what my life is, it’s a mess.”

And she meant it. She hated that she was never able to let Rachel go, properly, and be everything she could and would be without the weight of Quinn and their history keeping her anchored.

But the way Rachel looked at her, right now, sitting here, felt like maybe Rachel was just as willing to move mountains for her as she was for the petite beauty.

“I just--I still don’t get it, Quinn. I don’t understand.” Rachel let her hand trail up to the side of Quinn’s cheek and wiped away a stray tear that had snuck out. “Please. Help me understand. Why stay with him?”

"Self deprecation, maybe?" Quinn let out a dry chuckle dropped her hand into her lap.

"Quinn, that's--"

"True?" The blonde looked over to the girl beside her and shook her head, fiddling with her own hands as means of distraction. "I was so, so horrible to you back in high school. I was horrible to everyone, but mainly to you. I pushed you around, I called you names. I tried to ruin any bit of happiness for you. Hell, I stole Finn from you when I didn't even really want him myself at the time. But the funny thing? I never hated you.” It feels self deprecating but it also feels like the biggest truth she has. “My therapist calls it 'misplaced emotions'. I think I finally understand it."

"And how does your therapist feel about all  _ this _ ." Rachel gestured to the blonde's midsection with a huff before shaking her head in regret. "I'm sorry. That's not my place. I shouldn't –"

"She thinks I should leave him." It was flippant and Quinn knew that Rachel’s flinch was because her tone sounded so  _ clinical _ but it was the only way she had learned how to compartmentalize. 

"So then, why don't you!"

Quinn bristled at the tone in Rachel’s voice but her face remained unchanged. She looked up to the ceiling as if the perfect words were written there, right above, and would magically float down to her, travel through her eyes and out of her mouth. Poetic and perfect. Instead, all she could whisper was;

"I'm  _ scared. _ "

It all felt so broken, shattered, and like there was no way - even with tweezers and glue - that this could be put back together. Quinn felt that, everywhere. And she could tell Rachel felt it too in the way tears welled in her eyes and the way her lip quivered.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” And Quinn knew that Rachel felt that, because she did too. 

Quinn turned to her fully and dropped her knees to the back of the sofa cushion. She leaned her body in close and placed both hands on Rachel’s wet cheeks. 

And Quinn didn’t have an answer. Nothing with words. Not one that would be honest. But she answered in her lips, in her heart, in her soul, when she pressed a kiss lightly to Rachel’s lips and let the way they molded together talk for the both of them.

And it was short and it was barely a kiss but it said everything. It said  _ please go _ and it said  _ please stay. _

“I need you to promise me that you’ll lea--” But Rachel’s words were stopped by Quinn’s finger to her lips and a shake of her head. She couldn’t promise to leave him. It was so much more complicated than that.

How could she leave somebody who wasn’t who she knew they were, deep down? How could she leave when that person was unstable and scared and… how could she leave somebody who had a gun and a badge and the ability to control her entirely? How could she leave somebody when she didn’t even know where she would go?

She’d have no money, no family, no home. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, have Rachel. She’d be alone. And she didn’t know if she was ready for that.

No, she couldn’t promise anything. And Rachel knew that.

Rachel’s tears were building and the air was leaving her lungs Quinn could tell that she was on the verge of a panic attack. “I need you to promise me  _ something,  _ Quinn. Please promise me that this is going to be okay _. _ ” 

“I can promise you,” Quinn lifted her chin and looked her square in the eye, “that I will never, ever, stop loving you.”

And at that moment, Quinn could tell that Rachel knew she would never find the words to mend this mess. All she could do was pull the girl beside her into her own body and let out the remainder of her tears.

* * *

It was close to sunrise when Rachel finally emerged onto the dewey street below. The weather was hovering from hot to cold and just like seemingly everything else around her, she was caught in the crosshairs.

Her body didn't want to leave Quinn, but her mind was ready for peace. They had laid and talked and dozed and cried for close to eight hours and she was, for lack of a better word, done. Emotionally, physically, mentally done. They weren’t going to fix this, not tonight.

Walls had gone up. Unintentionally, perhaps, but walls just the same, on both of their parts. So they laid. And they cried. And occasionally Rachel would trace her fingers over a healed scar on a protruding rib, or her lips would ghost a purple welt along a delicate spine. And occasionally soft lips would press and hold to a brunette hairline as tears dried and eyes grew heavy. But the moment was fleeting. They both knew that once it was time to leave, this moment would file itself away.

So yes, Rachel didn't want to leave, not really, but her mind was ready.

The brunette pulled the oversized fleece Quinn had let her borrow tighter around her slim frame and began to walk. It was about 3 or 4 blocks before she realized she had no idea where she was even headed. She wasn't ready to go home and answer Kurt's questions after her abrupt exit the night before. She couldn't stick around where she was lest she run into Finn on his way home from the graveyard shift. And Angela couldn't know about any of this. Ever.

That's how she found herself sitting way uptown in the center of time square as the sun kissed the skyline. Pretty soon, tourists would engulf her from every direction and she would dissolve into the madness of New York City. And that's just the way she liked it.

It was predictable that Rachel wouldn't hear from Quinn in the immediate aftermath of what she's now dubbing  _ the  _ night. Whether it be shame, embarrassment, pride, or one of the million other emotions she couldn't possibly begin to guess – it was radio silence. 

It was predictable, but it hurt.

It's not as if she was expecting Quinn to drop everything, including her own fear, right away. That would have been a lofty goal, and it wasn't like she wasn't completely naive to understand how these things work. She may have previously had the reputation for having her head in the clouds, but reality had dropped a brick in her brain over the last 4 years that brought her crashing back to earth.

From her understanding of trauma and abuse from the very little real world experience she had with it and the more what she encountered in books and movies – the victim has emotions that are – well, complicated doesn't seem like it even scratches the surface. She knows it's not a matter of  _ if _ Quinn wants to leave him, but a matter of whether or not she  _ can. _

She knows Quinn doesn't love him, not really, not who he is now. She doesn't love being spat on and shat on (figuratively, of course) and told she's what's wrong with his life. Quinn doesn't love what he does to her in the shadows and what she has to hide in the sun. Quinn doesn't love being his wife. She  _ knows _ this, of course. But she can't reckon with what she can't fix.

And… it's not like she was uprooting her life since  _ the  _ night either. In fact –

"Hey babe, don't forget I have that dinner meeting with clients tonight so I won't be home until late." Angela called out as she hopped through the door from bedroom to living room, trying to place a high heeled pump on a moving target.

Rachel gave a firm nod in response and accepted the kiss that was dropped onto her cheek as she cut a very slippery mango on the kitchen island.

"I'm just a mistress to the job." Rachel half-joked in self pity. She was familiar with the feeling of being a mistress.

Angela's arm swept around her and squeezed briefly before grabbing a piece of buttered toast off Rachel's plate. "Why don't you go see Kurt? Maybe spend the night?"

Rachel faltered slightly. It wasn't that she was avoiding Kurt,  _ per se _ . It's just that ever since… well, you know… she's been delicately circumventing being alone with him. She didn't know how to tell him that his brother was a despicable drunk who beat up on his wife. It wasn't her place to share that information anyway. And sure, she could lie or simply omit – but she's trying this new honesty track lately when it comes to her feelings.

She's doing a real shit job.

"Yeah, maybe." She shrugged and turned towards her girlfriend with a bright smile. "Now, you better get going, miss hotshot."

Angela huffed her bangs out of her eyes and appraised the small brown eyed beauty in front of her – trying to read through the wry smile.

"Does you avoiding Kurt have anything to do with… well, us? Me?" Rachel opened and closed her mouth to respond before taking a small step forward into the redhead's space.

"I just, I know he wasn't a fan of this move. I know he's not the President of the Angela and Rachel fan club –" Rachel was quick to cut her off this time.

"It has _ absolutely _ nothing to do with you." And it wasn't a complete lie. It wasn't actually even a half lie.

Sure, Kurt didn't approve of Rachel going forward with moving in with her short-term girlfriend. And, if she was really truly honest with herself, she understood why. It wasn't news to either of them that her heart wasn't, and couldn't be, fully invested in this relationship. Even if the squirrely boy didn't know the whole truth and nothing but the truth about the saga that has become Quinn and Rachel and Finn and Booze, it didn't stop him from knowing  _ Rachel. _

So Rachel, to drive her point home, wrapped her hand behind the neck of the taller woman and pulled slightly on the hair she found there. She kissed the smile that appeared on the corner of the mouth in front of her and patted herself on the back for another land mine dodged.

In the end, she caved.

Kurt was thrilled at the promise of girl talk and Project Runway reruns for a Friday night sleepover and Rachel did everything she could to match his enthusiasm.

He looked cute in his matching silk PJs and uncharacteristically messy hair. They popped a bottle of $12.99 Cabernet and sat crossed legged on the shag rug in the living room. It felt like the old days – when they were nothing but green 19-year-olds with the world at their fingertips and a loft in Bushwick that had boys and girls rotating in and out at all hours. Long gone were the booty calls and the see-through drapes that separated 'rooms', but their bond remained.

"So. Tell me everything about cohabitating with your lady friend." Kurt smirked into his 2nd glass of the night – teeth slightly stained and words flowing freely.

"Well," Rachel stretched out a leg from underneath herself, "there isn't much to tell. It's been fairly docile. We wake up, she goes to work, I go to rehearsal, we come home, we order takeout, we watch tv and we go to sleep."

Kurt bristles into his glass, "Wow. Please, don't make it sound so great."

"No, no, no. It's not that it's not great." The brunette immediately walks back her words and sets her glass on the table. "It's not. It's just… it's not what I thought it would be, I guess?"

Her shadow raises an eyebrow, "Go on."

"I don't know, Kurt, I guess – I guess I just felt like if I played house, it would start to feel like home." She stared into the blood red liquid swirling at the bottom of her glass. It wasn't anything to pity, it just was what it was. She would make it work. And if she didn't… well.

Kurt scooted forward unceremoniously.

"Hey, look at me." Her brown eyes met his gentle hazel ones and held on for dear life. He truly was the greatest friend she could ask for and she regretted the past few months, nay – year, she had taken him for granted. It wasn't his fault she was in this pit of never-ending self-loathing, or in a vortex of Quinn, or in a tornado of doubt. He tried, so so many times to grab her hand and pull her to safety. But this wasn't his war to wage and they both knew it. So in the end –

"How about a refill?"

* * *

"Oh my god no she didn't!" the boy squealed in a way that made Rachel cackle.

"She absolutely did!" Rachel doubled over into the pillow on her lap. "And! Oh and, listen, and… she – listen, no listen – she  _ also _ wants total creative control over the choreography. Like she's some sort of – sort of – I don't know she's some sort of something."

They were on bottle number two and had steered clear of heavy topics like love and happiness and straight into the nightmare new co-star she had for the off-off-Broadway production of  _ Chicago. _ This felt  _ good _ for once. She felt good. She felt like she wasn't thinking of what her life could have been or should have been but what is what and what she loved and who she loved.

Well, not everything about who she loved because who she really  _ really _ loved she wasn't thinking of. She wasn't allowing herself to think of.

Nope. Not tonight.

Besides, what could she do? She couldn't confront those feelings she was bottling up. She  _ had _ to pack them away. Not for herself or her psyche but because she literally could not DO anything. She couldn't march over to that apartment and pull Quinn out of it. She couldn't call the cops on Finn. She couldn't upend  _ the entire _ world she's been working towards for somebody who she wasn't even supposed to love.

But she's not thinking about any of that. She's drinking.

"I'm going to get another glass, do you want one?" She looks to her fair skinned friend who nods enthusiastically and holds up his empty glass while half leaning, half laying on edge of the sofa cushion that somehow made its way to the ground.

She was pretty sure he didn't need another one.

"Santana, Mercedes, Sam." He mumbles as she sits back down and places the glass in his still outstretched hand.

"I'm going to need a little more." She smiles at her former roommate who had his eyes closed and was humming into the cool breeze wafting in from an open window.

"Rank them." He deadpans as if it's the most obvious answer.

Rachel puts her nose in the air while she thinks for a moment. "Well, Mercedes clearly has the crisper diaphragm to handle the larger notes but Santana's higher pitch really molds well with more types of –"

"No, no, no.  _ Rank _ them." Kurt opens his eyes and sits up a little higher.

"I am certain I was just doing that." The singer huffs out a lose bang around her eye.

"I am certain you were not." They stare at each other– well, Kurt stares and Rachel searches his confused face for a long while, just as she is about to suggest it be time for Kurt to put himself to bed, he rolls his eyes, "Banging, Rachel."

The brunette puts a small hand to her chest as if scandalized, "Kurt!"

"Rachel!"

"I will not! They are our friends who I – we – have known for… I will not shame their names by ranking them in terms of who I find… as you call it, 'bang-able'."

Kurt swatted his hand in her direction, "Oh get off your high horse. You spent the better part of a year banging my sister-in-law."

"She wasn't your sister in law and it wasn't a year, don't be dramatic." Rachell mumbled under her breath and turned to face him with narrowed eyes. "Santana, Mercedes, Sam. I can't imagine his lack of astuteness makes for a very attentive lover."

"Oh god, could you imagine." Kurt's eyes widened and after a brief pause, they both broke out laughing once again.

And that's how they ended up discussing, in great detail, just how good they thought everyone that had once passed through the doors of McKinley would be in bed. Well, nearly everyone. Save for a curly headed bowtie enthusiast and the prettiest girl she ever met. Those were no-go-zone.

"Okay – fuck, marry, kill ex boyfriend addition… go." Kurt slurred.

"Oh please, that's easy. Fuck Brody, oh my god do you remember those abs? I swear you could just wash your underwear right on his –"

Kurt claps his hands once in her face. "Rachel!"

Rachel shakes her head with her eyes closed, "Sorry, right. Marry Jesse - even though he would very likely just take all my money, trap me into a child, and then steal my reputation as well." And, easy choice there, "Kill Finn." She has the decency to at least look apologetic and shrugs one shoulder up nonchalantly, "Sorry."

Kurt gives her a look of pity, "Rachel."  _ If only he knew. _

She isn't thinking about this tonight. Not tonight.

Tonight, she's pretending like she's not helpless and everything isn't broken.

Tomorrow, she will begin to fix it.

  
  



End file.
